


The Dogs Days Are Most Certianly NOT Over

by ThatSassyCaptain



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Character(s), Bones gets adopted by aliens, Dogs, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Meld, Mystery, episode fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSassyCaptain/pseuds/ThatSassyCaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard McCoy can tell you so. Well, he could, if he wasn't caught up in this fine mess. And it was all supposed to be a routine mission, too. But then again, didn't they all start out that way? [Fic written and cross-posted from FFN on a mighty fine dare. Wasn't supposed to be a billion and six words, but here we are.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got a writing dare and turned it into exactly the kind of self-satisfying H/C Angst/Fluff fest I would like to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note: The cover is featured at the end of this chapter, just so we wouldn't have a big ol' thing cluttering up and moderately spoiling chapter 1. Thanks!

Trievas II was an ordinary looking planet. Grass was green, sun was yellow, breeze was pleasant enough. The inhabitants were awfully hospitable as well. The colonists on Trievas II- they'd only been here a year or so- were originally from Matrio III, but their exploration program had brought them out here. Class M atmosphere fit the humanoid species well enough. The Matrians didn't show any ill effects.

When the _Enterprise_ had been sent to the colony, they hadn't expected near as much progress. The Matrians had done a fine job of terraforming, as well as organizing their new infrastructure. It was a small colony on Trievas II, only about three hundred Matrians, but they were thriving.

When the away team materialized on the surface, the expected Matrian greeting party welcomed them. Doctor McCoy glanced around. The Matrian people, they'd talked with before. But the scenery-! He had to hand it to their exploratory service. They'd found quite the rock to settle themselves down on.

The plains were open. Grassy fields surrounded the colony complex. A few trees scattered the plains, gradually melting into a forest on the horizon. Like the report said, a gentle breeze picked up from behind them, flowing across the grass just like the prairies on Earth. Only, this grass was dark and rich, like something out of a fantasy novel. The whole image testified to the natural beauty of the planet. Again, McCoy thought, he would have to give credit where credit was due.

"Captain Kirk!" The Matrian official beamed. This woman was tall with the same short, spiky hairstyle that all the Matrians seemed to be wearing. The pinkish cuts varied between individuals- as did the freckle-like spots, Spock assured them- but it seemed like no one wore it long. McCoy thought it looked more like someone had taken a pair of hedge clippers to the entire population, but Spock had told him this was the norm.

"Minister Dalarian. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance." Kirk shook hands with the Minister and introduced his officers. "I believe you've spoken with Commander Spock, my First Officer, already. This is Doctor McCoy, my Chief Medical Officer."

Spock declined to shake hands and none of the Matrians seemed offended. McCoy offered his own hand with a smile. "How do you do, Minister?"

Dalarian beamed. "Very well, doctor, very well." She seemed awfully pleased. Perhaps the Trievas colony didn't get many visitors. "If you would please follow me. I'm eager to show you around our colony."

Jim nodded and gave his officers the 'shall we?' glance before setting off after Dalarian.

The colony was just as beautiful as the report described. McCoy was starting to wonder if they'd gotten _anything_ wrong. The main buildings and the commons had been tastefully designed, accented with small gardens and trees. Each of the pathways standing in for streets was placed at a right angle to the next, running parallel with another up the way. It looked elegant, McCoy thought. The simplistic designs lent credit to their architects. All in all, it was lovely.

The only things that seemed out of place were the native animals.

Matrian scientists had assured the Federation up and down and sideways that there were no sentient life forms on the Trievas planet, only a few bigger animals and an assortment of smaller prey. ' _Bigger animals' was right._ Giant dogs roamed the streets. These were great big creatures that stood on four legs as tall as a man's chest on average, though McCoy thought some might be closer to his height. But they seemed calm, keeping to their own and not minding much of anything that happened around them. Most, if not all, were outfitted with harnesses. Even he had to admit it was a bit unusual.

"Minister Dalarian…" It seemed as if Jim was on the same track as he. "Mind if I ask about the… Unusually large canines you have here?"

Dalarian smiled broadly. "Of course, Captain. They're native to Trievas, as you may have guessed. We have no such animals on Matrio! But, we had no trouble at all domesticating them. It's amazing what a little mental training can do to a wild beast. Commander, correct me if I'm wrong, but do the Vulcans not have a similar relationship with your native animals?"

Spock inclined his head to the minister. "You are correct. Though, Vulcan boasts a multitude of large creatures that are not as docile as the sehlat, if sehlats can be called docile. The venomous _le matya_ , for instance."

Dalarian's smile stayed plastered to her face, but it looked as if that wasn't quite the answer she had expected. "Oh, how interesting, Commander. Though, there are some differences from your sehlats too, to be sure." She gestured to one of the quiet animals at the side of the path.

At second glance, these big ol' dogs looked more akin to retrievers than sehlats. McCoy observed as the dog gathered up root vegetables and put them in a little basket. He could only assume that the dog would take the basket back somewhere for the colonists to sift through. It was astounding how well these animals had been trained.

Dalarian continued. "These large canines roam the Trievan plains, traveling in packs and hunting smaller game. When we first arrived, they didn't take too kindly to us. But, these things tend to work themselves out! You might find it interesting to know that through our mental training programs, we were able to teach them a wide variety of tasks."

"Mental training. Minister?" Spock spoke up.

"Indeed, Commander. I'm sure you came across in the reports that the Matrian people are touch telepaths?"

"Affirmative, Minister. I merely wished to ascertain your methods, beyond the obvious."

Dalarian kept that smile up. "Quite simple to explain, Commander. I'm somewhat familiar with the Earth tradition of keeping native canines as pets. We have a similar outlook; only with slightly more complex 'tricks' to tech them. Using our telepathy, we have condensed what would take months or even years in a Terran obedience school, as you call them, into mere moments. We've trained a majority of the population to gather food, care for the children, guard our borders, and so much more."

"They do all that?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"Oh yes, Captain." Dalarian indicated another working canine. This one had some sort of bags attached to its harness. McCoy's best guess fell somewhere along the lines of 'delivery service'.

"For instance, this animal is carrying rocks from the collection site outside the colony proper. We have a few small setups to make concrete on the east side of the complex. Nothing major, since the majority of our buildings use prefabricated material from Matrio." She smiled more broadly at the Captain. "And, of course, we keep all of the animals well fed and well groomed. They're all very happy."

Dalarian led them toward the main council building, prattling on about the colony's progress and development over the last year. McCoy tuned out the tour highlights and looked at the scenery. It _was_ very beautiful on Trievas II.

Somewhere along the pathway, the complex changed structure. There were fewer gardens and more buildings. McCoy deduced these must be the houses or living areas or whatever the colonists had devised for shelter. The buildings looked a little too strict up against the rolling hills and gorgeous landscape, but who was he to judge architecture? He was a doctor, not a designer. Besides, the Matrian colony had been doing very well.

A small sound distracted him; though he wasn't paying all that much attention to the minister's oration anyhow, and McCoy found himself pausing by a narrow alleyway. None of the buildings were so tall and dense that they obstructed all light from the ground, but a few casting shadows prevented him from seeing the animal at first. This dog was smaller than the one he'd seen picking vegetables, but it was still impressive. Dark eyes peered out at him from the big face. This doggy had very dark fur, almost black, with a distinct purplish tint to it. What stood out to McCoy was the pattern of tiny white spots under the dog's nose. Looked almost like the remnants of a milk moustache.

"Well hey there." McCoy smiled. The dog was just staring at him, expecting him to… what? This one wasn't wearing a harness. McCoy couldn't tell what training it had received, if any. _Maybe this one's only a puppy,_ he thought. The dog stood as tall as his collarbone, but McCoy had seen taller. Slowly, he stuck his hand out toward the dog's face. _Let him get comfortable with me, and then maybe he'll let me scratch him behind the ears. If this one's really a puppy, he might like that._

The dog sniffed McCoy's hand, and then head-butted his palm. McCoy's eyebrows rose. That was unusual. His hand was sitting smack in the middle of the dog's forehead. And the canine in question hadn't moved another inch.

"Cutting straight to the chase, are we?" The doctor smiled and started rubbing behind the big baby's ears. _Such a silly thing. I bet he deserves a little affection. Probably works real hard, like the rest of them._

The big dog kept moving around, playing or something like it. McCoy kept having to track down that sweet spot behind the ears. He chuckled when the dog finally gave up and let him scratch away. When the big tail started wagging, McCoy knew he was golden.

"There. That feels pretty good, don't it?" He smiled and the dog panted happily at him. "Such a good doggy. Workin' hard all day. Bet you don't have much time to play, do you?" The dog panted some more before hopping forward to lick McCoy's face. The doctor laughed. _Big guy doesn't have to reach far_.

From a little ways off, he heard Jim calling for him. The " _Doctor McCoy!"_ echoed off the buildings. Both McCoy and the big dog turned toward the sound. "Well," He scratched the puppy's head one more time. "Looks like that's my cue. It was nice to meet you, puppy dog."

The dog didn't follow him out of the alley, and McCoy decided it must have work to do. He caught up with the big group quickly.

"Sorry Jim. Got distracted." He smiled at his Captain and the rest of the group good-naturedly. "There was this big puppy dog lookin' like he wanted a friend and I couldn't help myself."

Jim smiled and shook his head. "Next time, stick with the group, Doctor. Minister Dalarian was just telling us about the expansion plan for the next five years. I'm sure you'll be excited to hear about their hospital…"

The party continued down the path. McCoy did check over his shoulder for the puppy dog, but it looked like the coast was clear.

* * *

"The _Enterprise_ is stopping over on Starbase 45 for supplies and a few parts so our Chief Engineer can make a tune up or two." Kirk smiled. "He's been itching to get at one of the bigger power couplings for some time now."

Captain Kirk had stayed after dinner for a drink with Minister Dalarian and one of the Councilmen- Ureit, or something- and he was enjoying himself. Matrian Wine was a delight he'd never experienced. He was sorry Bones and Spock had declined, the doctor in favor of a good night's sleep " _for the first time this month, Jim, not like you'd know_ " and Spock had accepted another Councilman's surprise offer to tour the power plant. An appeal to Spock's technical expertise had been made, and Kirk dared to say his Vulcan First Officer had been _flattered_ into accepting.

With Bones tucked away in bed and Spock gallivanting around the colony's power station, Kirk felt all right having a drink with the two officials.

"What wonderful news, Captain." Dalarian smiled broadly at him. He wondered about that smile. Was there nothing she was unhappy about? Then again, in a place like this, there wasn't much to be upset with.

"The really wonderful news is your invitation to stay for a few days. Not only does it give Commander Scott plenty of time to make his adjustments, but it also gives us some time to see your lovely colony, Minister."

" _Dalarian_ , please, Captain!"

Jim grinned. "Dalarian, then, but you'll have to call me Jim."

Just then, a messenger of some sort tapped on the door gently before opening it. It turned out to be a plainly dressed woman with a concerned expression. "Minister…" She began. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you. It's an urgent matter."

Dalarian's eyes flicked to Kirk before returning to the messenger. "Is it about that small matter Cadrit was so worried about?" There was a casual tone in her voice, one that made the Captain feel more at ease, but also piqued his interest. What could be so small and urgent at the same time?

The messenger's face betrayed some surprise. She too looked at the Captain before responding. "Yes, Minister. Cadrit himself sent me. He says it… must be decided on."

Dalarian took another sip of her wine, looking as relaxed as she sounded. She glanced at Kirk, and filled in some information for his benefit. "Cadrit is our Security Coordinator. He's paranoid, poor man, but he does a very good job. We were discussing a pack of untamed canines Cadrit detected a few miles outside the colony while you and your officers were getting settled."

"They're not a problem, are they?"

She shook her head. "No, no, not in the slightest. He just wished to have a security detail together just in case." Dalarian turned back to the messenger. "Cadrit outlined a very agreeable plan of action to me earlier on. He should continue with his work. I trust his judgment."

The messenger nodded quickly. "Yes Minister. I will inform him of your orders." Suddenly, the messenger turned. She had just enough time to look surprised before the door opened all the way. A larger Matrian man walked in, and Kirk was surprised to see he was armed. The whip curled on his belt looked sinister enough. Kirk spotted barbs and a cat-of-nine-tails arrangement on one end, as well as a strange looking panel resting in the whip's handle.

The whole interruption was quite unexpected. And in the Minister's quarters, no less. Even Ureit, who had been virtually silent the whole evening, gasped.

"Cadrit!" Dalarian snapped. Kirk sat up as the infamous Security Coordinator stood at attention. He at least had the decency to look shame-faced about his interruption.

"I'm sorry, Minister. I wanted your orders. I know we discussed it _briefly_ , but-" His eyes flicked to the Captain, and Cadrit's expression changed. It seemed as if he hadn't realized Kirk would be there either.

"It's not worth _discussing_ anymore, Cadrit. You have a suitable plan. Carry it out. I don't want to hear anything more about it."

To his credit, Cadrit held back the remark that was ready on his lips. He glanced back at Kirk before responding. "Yes, Minister. It will be taken care of."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Cadrit bowed before he and the messenger exited. The door clicked shut behind them. Dalarian caught Kirk's questioning glance and practically beamed. Now, he was very concerned about those pearly whites.

"There's nothing to be worried over, Captain. You can see he's very touchy." She sighed. "It's good for a security man to be alert, but sometimes I believe he overthinks things. Some matters are settled simply after all. If you do happen to hear anything tonight, Captain, I wouldn't worry. Cadrit and his men can handle anything those animals can throw at us."

* * *

Doctor McCoy had settled in for the night inside a very comfortable guest room and on a _very comfortable_ bed. He had the whole little space to himself- one of five spares; his guide had mentioned- complete with a bathroom and a shower. McCoy'd taken advantage of the utilities straight away, going just short of pampering himself with his hot shower and highly interesting soap.

Once he'd toweled off and changed into a spare black shirt and pants, McCoy had examined the bed- very satisfying- and settled right in. The sheets were soft and the comforter was cozy. He couldn't ask for more. This was practically shore leave, for all the 'work' he was supposed to be doing, and he wasn't going to waste another minute being awake.

McCoy sighed with contentment. This month had been one disaster after another, and he was more than ready for a break. He let his head drop onto the pillow before pulling the covers up around his shoulders. This was paradise.

It wasn't long before McCoy dropped off to sleep. He rolled over a couple of times before settling, and it wasn't another half hour before his breathing slowed and he drifted into a deeper slumber.

He didn't hear the soft beep when the room's lock was overridden, or the three sets of quiet footsteps entering the room. McCoy was dead asleep when the gloved hand counted back from three, and when the intruders pounced. Oh, he was awake again in an instant, struggling against three assailants. One had a hand clamped down on his mouth, but they seemed to have a harder time restraining his limbs. In the dark room, he recognized the glint of a hypospray- that silhouette he'd recognize anywhere- and quickly punched it out of the intruder's hand. There was a brief bout of swearing before McCoy heard a gruff order.

"Change of plans." The voice growled. "We're moving out _now._ "

Immediately, the other two began grappling, fighting for a grip on his arms or shoulders. McCoy dished out a good few blows before a hand caught his wrist. Between the three of them, they'd gotten his arms pinned. The next step was more of a surprise. They hauled him out of his bed and made for the door.

 _Not if I have anything to say about it!_ He kicked out at his assailants. One kick landed wonderfully, and the attacker on his right stumbled. Unfortunately, the hand that had held the hypospray was now free. McCoy felt something come down hard on the back of his head and he saw stars. His assailants took the opportunity to pick up the pace. It wasn't another minute before they were outside and he was being thrown into the back of a vehicle. He'd say a van, but the startup was too quiet and he knew the feel of anti-grav travel anywhere.

They hadn't tried to restrain him further. McCoy was grateful for that at least. After a minute of collecting himself, he pushed of the floor of the vehicle and sat up. It was too dark for him to discern anything other than the fact that he was alone back here. There appeared to be one or two boxes, but they were small and insignificant looking.

The van- blast it all if he was calling it a 'multi-terrain cargo transport vehicle'- lurched a bit, and he realized just how fast they were going. Off-road, too, it felt like. Older anti-grav vehicles weren't quite sure how to handle uneven terrain. _You could tell,_ he mused, _you could always tell._

McCoy tried getting to his feet. The van wasn't tilting so much that he couldn't get his balance. If he could head for the back door-

Suddenly, the whole vehicle swerved and he took a tumble to the floor. Above the rumbling of the engine, he could hear some muffled voices in the cab. _Must've spotted me, then. I'll have to be more careful_. He got back to his hands and knees and began crawling for the back doors instead. Once he brushed his hand against the door, the van lurched again and threw him into the sidewall.

 _Now they're just being paranoid!_ He rolled over and rubbed the back of his head. _Speaking of-_ He ran his fingers over the tender spot and found no blood. That was good news. There was enough to worry about already.

A short time later, McCoy stumbled across a rung on the floor, which he clung to for dear life. The blasted driver kept swerving all over the place in an attempt to knock the doctor around. _Well, two can play at that game._ Every time the van jerked, McCoy kicked the floor with his heels well and good to make it sound like he'd fallen over. Now that he had some sort of control, he started planning his escape.

They drove for a good fifteen minutes, which by his best guess would put them well out of town at this speed, before the van finally slowed to a stop.

McCoy had been preparing. At one point, he'd stopped kicking the floor so dramatically, and instead had opted for shifting his weight to the appropriate section of the van. He'd rolled with the punches, as it were, to give them the notion that he'd finally passed out or had been knocked out by that idiot's driving.

He knew that once they all got out, he'd only have a moment to implement the second part of his plan. They'd feel the van move if he acted too soon. So, McCoy waited. Once the last of them was out of the cabin, he lunged for the boxes, hoping whatever was inside would be heavy enough. The first one he grabbed would do. In a flash, McCoy was standing in front of the doors with the box raised.

He didn't have long to wait.

The second the door was open and he had a shadow in his sights, McCoy let the box fly. It hit the silhouette square in the chest. Now was his time. McCoy leapt out the open door and bolted. He was grateful that this was a grassy plain, because he had no shoes. Maybe did have one advantage, since the three of them had been seeing with the benefit of headlights all this time. Their night vision would be shot.

McCoy scanned his surroundings. They were out in the middle of a field. There were some tall hills rising up on one side, and what looked like a forest adjacent to that. The moon was bright enough to illuminate a couple of shapes, but not as bright as McCoy had hoped.

He could hear them shouting behind him. On a whim, he turned and ran full out for the tree line. He could take his chances hiding in there. It was better than running in the open field.

They'd stopped yelling and McCoy realized that their footsteps were growing closer. As much distance as he'd gained, he'd lost again without the benefit of shoes or a good idea of where he was headed. At least he was nearing the woods. He could lose them in there. Once he'd cleared the first couple rows of trees, he turned sharply and pressed his back flat against the side of a wide trunk. McCoy pressed a hand over his mouth to quiet his ragged breathing. Any sound might betray him.

He'd barely taken a second to consider _why on earth this was happening_ anyhow. Now might be a good a time as any. _If this whole thing was a trap, why'd they wait for nightfall? The ship's been gone a good few hours. And if this is a trap from the get-go, why didn't they grab Jim and Spock? Why'd they just take me out into the middle of nowhere?_

It didn't look like they were planning on killing him. No one had whipped out a phaser or any sort of projectile weapon. They were tracking him down, intent on recapturing him. _But, why?_ The question presented itself again. There looked to be no logical answer, and that was frustrating.

A twig snapped right behind him. McCoy tensed; ready to make a break for it if the footsteps got too close. He froze as a shadow moved _in front of him_ on his left. Almost surrounded. He had to move. Now.

McCoy turned to his right and bolted. Of course, the sudden movement attracted their attention, but he didn't care. If one of them wasn't guarding the van, he could hop in and get the heck outta Dodge. It would mean he still had a fighting chance.

But, it seemed like he was doomed from the start. No sooner had he cleared the trees again when he heard it- the unmistakable sound of a spark, a crackle, like the electric arcs of an old-style taser gun. He didn't know what good that could do them until it hit. McCoy'd been running full-tilt toward the van when something hot and sharp had grabbed a hold of his arm. He could feel some burning strands wrapping down toward his wrist before the little spikes started digging in. Whatever it was had its claws in him, and now it was trying to pull him back.

And then came the shock. His body jerked and he collapsed to the ground even before the tugging stopped and the device went slack. It wasn't too long- though it felt like ages- before the figures materialized out of the dark with a flashlight on hand. McCoy was vaguely aware of voices above him.

"Get him up. We didn't come out here for exercise. We need answers."

Two sets of hands hauled him upright and forced him back onto his knees. If he'd thought it was bad before… McCoy felt every barb as each one pulled out of his skin. He could see it now, the flaying-end of a whip, as it was being curled back into its owner's hand. Didn't explain the electric shock, but he was beyond comprehending much of anything.

The whip disappeared entirely and a pair of boots stepped into the circle of light. Weakly, McCoy lifted his head. He couldn't see much of his assailants, only the tips of the big guy's hair backlit by the moonlight.

"What do you know about the Trievar?"

McCoy squinted. It was hardly a specific question. Not that he could answer it. He could barely see straight.

"He's not talking." The voice came from his left, one of the other two. "I don't think he _can_. I told you it wasn't a good idea to use that-"

" _I know._ " The first voice growled again. "We couldn't let him get away... Where would that get us? Alright… Keep him steady."

McCoy winced as the one on his left adjusted their grip. That was his bad arm, blast it all, couldn't they see? Apparently, his noises of discomfort alerted them to the fact. The hands moved up toward his shoulder, far beyond the injured area.

"Let's get on with this." The one on his right said. "Try something else. We need to get back before they start to suspect…"

"Fine." The first grunted. "Hold this." The flashlight was passed to McCoy's left. The light moved back on his face and he squinted again. What could they possibly be looking for? It wasn't like he'd been here for more than a few hours. He didn't know _anything_.

"I don't…" McCoy stopped, out of breath. Between the run and the shock, he was spent. He tried again, anyway. This may very well be his last chance. "I don't… know…"

The figure in front of him stopped. McCoy still couldn't see beyond the narrow beam of light, but he hoped the hesitation was sympathetic.

"We… have to be sure. I can't take your word for it. I'm sorry." The figure moved again and a hand appeared in his range of vision. It came to rest, palm settled in the middle of his forehead. _Touch telepaths,_ McCoy remembered, before the fire started.

The hot poker, though not aggressive, was still a hot poker. It drove straight through to the moment when they'd beamed down to Trievas II and combed forward. Sweeping across everything, every waking moment, the fire engulfed each one of his memories before continuing the search. It seared through his conversations with Jim, Spock, the colonists, even his visit with the big puppy. It took everything and left behind an ache like no other. An ache he'd never wanted to experience again.

The hand retreated and they let him fall, limp and oblivious to the outside world. Over his head, there was a debate as to whether they should take him back since he really knew nothing, but it was decided that they'd be better safe than sorry. Besides, the group of canines was moving this way. It was the best option.

McCoy was hardly aware of the van as it started up and sped away. He cradled his bad arm against his chest and curled up as tightly as he could. Last time, Scotty had been there to hold him upright while Jim spoke to that other Spock. Last time, Uhura- always so good with words- had talked him through it afterwards. And he'd been a fool to think it would never happen again.

Didn't it always? Telepaths never _cared_ , not like they should anyhow. Not Sylvia, or the agents of Landru, just for starters. Even the Vulcans had let him down. Talking didn't produce results quick enough. _Human decency_ was an inconvenience to their greed, their impatience in getting what they wanted _immediately_.

Long after the sound of the van had faded into the night, McCoy lay on his side, oblivious to it all. He stayed, trembling, in the same position as the wind rolled in over the hills and clouds passed over the moon. Stomach empty yet still rebellious, McCoy's shaking was periodically interrupted with a sickening heave. He was alone and utterly trapped. There was nowhere to run to, even if he could pick himself up off the ground.

He hardly even noticed when the grass began rustling. The wind whipped the foliage, sure, but the consistent swooshing grew closer and closer still. A low growl reached his ears. McCoy had given up in body, perhaps, but not in spirit. He couldn't move an inch to save his life, but a shred of self-preservation pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Sucking in a shaky breath, he tried to lie still. Maybe whatever it was wouldn't notice him, or lose interest if it had already.

He could hear a snuffling sound mixed in with the low rumble as the noise grew closer. It was investigating, whatever it was. Finally, he could feel the moist breath on the back of his neck, the heat of another body threateningly close to him. Through the haze, he remembered the wild dogs. The trio had planned their contingency well. It had worked out exactly as they thought. He could only hope it went quickly.

Before he was chewed to pieces like some oversized dog toy, McCoy heard another set of sounds from a second big dog. There was a soft whine at first, which grew into a sharp yip. The breath on his neck moved away, he supposed, in response to this newcomer. He could feel another body move in front of him. There were two now, snuffling around him and investigating. At least they weren't tugging him in two directions, fighting over the catch of the day.

Another whine. He felt the warmth move closer and he realized just how cold it was out here, and just how chilled he'd become lying in the same position for who knows how long. And suddenly, he was having his face slobbered on. The second dog seemed happy enough to see him. It started licking his face, poking around with its big wet nose. McCoy was so relieved that it wasn't interested in eating him that he didn't realize where that snout was heading until it prodded him right in the arm.

 _Now_ he was grateful that no one else was here. The yelp was hardly dignified. Quickly, the dog backed off. It didn't go far enough to where McCoy couldn't feel the warmth radiating off of it, but it seemed to know he was hurt. _Like the smell of blood doesn't let it know? Well, these creatures might not have iron or carbon in abundant supply in their own chemistry…_

It did him some good to know he was thinking more clearly. _Maybe it's the dog._ _Who knows? More things work than I thought…_ He tried moving around, but his body didn't want to cooperate. Whatever'd provided the voltage on that crazy contraption had done a number on his system. McCoy groaned, weary from the chill and the pain and the throbbing inside his skull. He didn't need this. He'd been on vacation two hours ago… Had it been longer? McCoy didn't have the foggiest.

The nice puppy was back, nosing his side, trying to get a reaction out of him. McCoy grunted and rolled away. He couldn't go far, but he could get a message across. It would be a long time before he was able to move, let alone rub bellies or scratch behind the ears.

Now, the first dog was pestering him too. It had its nose right up in McCoy's face, snuffling and poking at him all around his head and shoulders. He tried picking up his good arm to shove the dog away. It was a weak effort, and all he could think about was the ache as his arm flopped over and along the side of the dog's face.

The two of them backed off. McCoy could hear them making noises at each other and doing whatever it was where they'd pulled away to do. He drew his arm back in and tried to lie still so he could ease that pounding in his head.

It wasn't long enough before they came back. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to play, or give either of them the attention they wanted. There was no way. McCoy lay still, not responding to either presence as they moved closer.

One of the noses poked him right in the back of the neck. McCoy was about to roll away again when suddenly there were teeth in his t-shirt and he was being lifted up off the ground. The crafty thing had got a grip on the fabric and now had itself a captive. He couldn't bite back the groan as the dog hefted him into the air. Then, they were moving. His feet dragged along the ground, each impact sending a jolt up his spine. These dogs weren't being particularly gentle.

And then his legs hit something solid. McCoy grunted as he was laid over the back of the second dog. _They're organized_ , he managed to think through the pain. _Lord above, it's the service dogs! They're out here for whatever reason, and they've been trained for rescues of some sort._ All of the sudden, he felt a lot more confident about what was going on. These big dogs were helping him out.

McCoy relaxed. He lay there and let whatever was going to happen just happen already. The sooner he got back to a hospital or Jim and Spock, the better. He slumped over the other side of the dog's back. That was it. He was on his way. Jim and Spock would help. This would all be over tonight.

The dog started trotting off and McCoy let his head droop. He was out before they'd gone fifty yards.

 

* * *

And here's that cover we talked about

 


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean, 'he's gone', Spock?"

Spock didn't frown. That wouldn't be logical, however _appropriate_ it may seem at the time. Jim had wandered in late smelling of alcohol. Spock could deduce that the Captain had likely had a pleasant evening. His First Officer, decidedly less so.

Spock had done a round of the complex after his meditation and had found the Doctor's door ajar. The bed was upset and one of the vases on the table had fallen. It hadn't broken, since the carpet was plush and the vase was, in fact, metal, but the evidence remained. Doctor McCoy had gone violently, whether of his own accord or…not…

"I mean exactly that, Captain. The Doctor was not in his room, nor did he answer his communicator. I eventually located it among his things, but it is disturbing to think that he would leave without it."

Jim leaned heavily on the wall. "Maybe he went for a walk, Spock. Bones likes camping and fresh air and all that stuff."

"Without his shoes, Captain?"

Jim frowned. "Ok. Maybe he didn't go for a walk. What do you think happened to him, Spock?"

Spock glanced back at McCoy's quarters again. "We can only continue investigating at this juncture, Captain. I believe McCoy may be in a great deal of danger."

* * *

He woke up on the ground. Chilled to the bone and not at all excited to be living, McCoy shuddered and tried to remember just why he'd opted to sleep on the floor. He could feel something heavy on his chest, and it took him a minute to realize it was his arm. It took him another minute to realize there was something _on top_ of his arm. Bandages? No, bandages weren't clumpy like that.

The pounding in his head made sense again. He felt the chill run down his spine as he remembered the night before. The phantom pain of that hot poker singed his thoughts. Fresh in his mind, he relived the memory, the pain, the-

Something nudged his face. _The dogs._ Either they were nurses in this hospital they'd dragged him to or they were company… _Speaking of company-_ _Jim. Spock. Where are they? Did they come?_ McCoy began struggling with his eyelids. Whichever dog was attending to him began licking his face in encouragement.

Slowly, he got his eyes to cooperate. He saw a blurry blob backing away from him. McCoy blinked, trying to get a focus on something, anything other than the sledgehammer in his skull. Steadying his breathing was a different matter altogether. He was a doctor. He knew you didn't just walk away from something like that. Whatever kind of setup they had in this freezing hospital, they had to have someone he could talk with.

McCoy tried sitting up, only to find himself surrounded. Three big dogs lumbered over to him before he could manage to get himself off the ground. He recognized one of them- the one with the white spots on his nose, but the other two were new. One dog stood alongside the first, watching him, and the other pushed McCoy back onto the ground with his snout. It wasn't hard either, weak as he was and as big and strong as these dogs got…

That was when he noticed the leaves. McCoy looked down to find that his arm wasn't covered in bandages, but an odd assortment of dried-on leaves. They'd been wet once, he could tell by the way they stuck to his skin like plaster, but now they were clumped around and smelling like a rainy fall day.

The pushy dog gave him another look before going after the leaves. Attacking them with that very big tongue, the dog started chipping away at that pile. Midway through this strange process, McCoy's arm started to sting. Heck, it downright _burned._

He tried pulling away, but this dog would have none of it. It went so far as to stand on McCoy's leg until he let up. Gently but firmly, the doctor was held in place. _Pushy ol' thing. Who does he think he is?_ But, McCoy had to sit there and take it. Now, he could see the red patches on his arm, the streaks and scratches from the night before, where the barbs had dug into his skin. How long _had_ it been?

The big dog turned away from him, and McCoy pulled his arm against his chest. He hadn't the slightest idea why this dog was in charge of his medical care, unless… Looking around, McCoy was surprised by his surroundings.

He was in a cave. This was not the hospital. That woke him up quicker than any alarm, and the klaxons were virtually blaring in his mind. McCoy sat bolt upright and tried to get his feet under him. The two dogs on the sidelines snapped to attention. His best guess was that they'd been trained to respond to circumstances like this. Why they hadn't taken him back to the colony though… Were they too far out? Had they just taken shelter there?

McCoy got himself up off the ground and started backing away. Now that he was up, he could see more of the cave. There were collection baskets filled with vegetables, scraps, towels, all sorts of things. Some held miscellaneous metal parts, some held fruit, and some held what looked like boxes of cutlery. Was this some kind of depot? Why had they brought him here?

The two dogs started padding after him. Were they guards? Did he have a chance if he turned and ran? McCoy got his answer when he backed into something solid. He spun around, finding himself nose-to-nose with an angry looking dog. This one was tall and slender and menacing as they got.

"Nice doggy…" He scanned the cave, looking for a way out. There didn't appear to be any exits that weren't filled with dogs… McCoy counted at least four others before Big & Angry jabbed him in the chest with his giant snout. Bewildered, the doctor stumbled back. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to leave. He was a prisoner again. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell which captors were more dangerous.

The leaf-dog came to his rescue. It actually had leaves in its large mouth when it moved between McCoy and his adversary. That was when it clicked. The cuts and scrapes on his arm had stopped bleeding, and the whole area looked to be on the mend. This planet had more surprises than he could process. These leaves were _medicinal._

"You're a regular Rin Tin Tin, aren't you?" McCoy studied the dog, best as he was able, to find identifying marks. If he could point this dog out later, maybe they could determine-

Rin Tin Tin prodded him of his own accord. McCoy was herded back to where he'd been, near the pair of dogs he'd woken up beside. Now that he was wide-awake, he could see that _yes_ it was the spotted puppy from earlier on. McCoy knew he had at least one friend in the bunch. That last dog was still giving him the evil eye from across the room.

 _I'll call that one 'Asta'_ , he decided, _on account of how he's got the looks of an ornery troublemaker._ Asta seemed fitting, and ironic, considering just how large this dog was. He had a head on every other canine McCoy had seen, at least. A veritable giant.

He was surrounded again. Some other dogs had come to observe, but they all kept their distance. McCoy could see several shades of fur, ranging from that black-purple to midnight blue. The longer he scanned the crowd, the less pure black he saw, and the more variations in color appeared. Now that he was looking, he saw a whole lot more.

Rin Tin Tin nudged McCoy again and tilted his snout towards the floor.

"I'm to sit, I wager?"

The dog stared blankly at him. McCoy sat.

Quickly, the leaves were chewed and slobbered all over the doctor's arm. McCoy almost started to swipe them away, before Rin Tin Tin took to licking. The dog smoothed the leaves out over his arm before retrieving a fallen leaf and plastering it on top again. His training was evident. Rin Tin Tin at least knew rudimentary first-aid and how to herd stubborn humanoids. Of course, it helped that the dog was just about big enough to eat a grown man. McCoy had no choice but to sit back and let him arm get tended to.

While he was being doctored, he took a look around the circle of wet noses and wagging tails. Asta had kept his distance, but the rest of the bunch crowded as close as they could without getting in the way. A well-taught bunch by the looks of things. No dog made any move that would impede another. He couldn't tell if it was mindfulness in the pack or just good training. And they all eyed him like he was a curiosity. Perhaps the Matrians' special variety of 'humanoid' had become commonplace, and something about Terrans appealed. That, or it was just novelty.

Rin Tin Tin finished applying his leaves and McCoy inspected the work. No loose ends were left hanging, no air bubbles either. This dog knew his stuff. Briefly, McCoy wondered how the Matrians had stumbled across this vegetable-cure-all, but Rin Tin Tin wasn't finished with him yet. The dog poked at McCoy's hand with his nose. He was to do something. Did the dog expect additional treatment on McCoy's end? He didn't know the first thing about the plants on Trievas.

McCoy lifted his hand off the ground slowly. Rin Tin Tin responded by wagging his tail slowly. McCoy lifted his hand higher. More wagging, faster this time. He figured he'd just about caught on.

"Oh, so now you're wantin' a thank you?" McCoy beamed and stuck his hand out towards the big softie's head. These dogs were all the same, wriggling around under his hand, making it a game for him to find a spot to scratch behind their ears. Rin Tin Tin played longer than his spotted pal, trying to move around McCoy's hand and nearly getting himself poked in the eye.

"Won't you hold still, you silly thing?" He attempted to stretch out his other hand and grab the big dog, but those barbs had cut deep. Stretching anywhere too much hurt like the Dickens. McCoy winced and stuck to one-handed petting. The dog had slowed when he tried to move his other arm. Finally, the doctor got the big guy to settle down. Rin Tin Tin wagged his big tail, but it wasn't so lively as McCoy would've liked to see.

Eventually, his interim nurse found something else to occupy his attention. The spotty dog from the colony pushed his way over. It sure looked like he recognized McCoy. The big puppy crouched low and started licking the doctor's face.

"Nice to see you too, buddy. Some coincidence, us runnin' into each other twice, huh? What are the chances?" Puppies always seemed to like it when you talked to them, even if it was babbling or silly noises. Older dogs got used to it, or as was the case for most strangers' dogs, ignored it altogether. The puppy's companion seemed to be of the second type, ignoring McCoy's chatter and butting his way in between the two.

Being nose to nose with a big animal made you notice things. McCoy heard the low rumble, barely audible, and spotted the slight fade to this dog's fur. An older one, by all appearances. Didn't seem too happy to see him. Before he could get too far into wondering why that was, the dog kicked at his hand. It wasn't a hard kick, no more than a nudge really, but the way it was delivered sent a clear message. This dog meant business.

This seemed like the universal sign for 'pet me', so McCoy thought he'd be generous to this old timer. "Somebody feelin' left out?" The dog's expression didn't change at McCoy's sympathetic tone. Impatient fellow. He proceeded dispensing affection. That's what they all wanted, right?

This old dog seemed to have different ideas. As soon as McCoy started rubbing his head, the dog knocked the doctor's hand aside and grumbled. McCoy tried again with the same result. The second time, he also got a tap on the face for his trouble. The old coot jabbed him in the cheek with his nose. Recoiling, McCoy drew his hand back and stared at the dog, wondering just what in heavens name it was driving at.

Lucky for him, the spotty dog came back with reinforcements. A much bigger, more regal canine drove the old timer off with a grunt and a flick of her elegant head. All the other bystanders got a move on as well. McCoy could only speculate a moment on what type of telepathic training would lead to this sort of hierarchy, when the big lady started sniffing around. She seemed to know about his arm, or at least recognize what those leaves meant.

And it was much easier for him to figure things out about her from this distance as well. The big lady had some white around her neck and a smooth transition of white to the tips of her ears. There weren't spots on her so much as there were on the puppy, just different coloration. McCoy wondered how many and what types of variations this species had in patterning.

After searching him for Lord only knows what, the big lady nudged his arm. "Alright. Y'all taking turns now, getting in a petting line?" He was far more wary this time, setting his hand on her head gently before searching out a good spot to scratch. She did as the others had, wriggling around for a while before letting McCoy do as he would. It was strange, that ritual. Was it some sort of game? Were they looking for him to do something else- maybe scratch a different place, since they weren't really dogs at all?

Eventually, she was satisfied and stood back up. She whined something at the pup before Rin Tin Tin made another appearance and dropped a blanket straight onto McCoy's head. He sputtered for a minute before sorting it out. The three dogs were paying him hardly any mind, save for the puppy, which spared him a glance whenever he made a louder noise.

This was his first moment of peace since he'd arrived in the pound. He'd been abducted, attacked, and thrown to the dogs, but he wasn't dead yet. His thoughts went back to Jim and Spock. Did they know he was gone? Had they already begun searching? The icy hand of fear clutched at his heart. McCoy realized that just because they hadn't been taken with him didn't mean they hadn't been taken. Someone could've just as easily ambushed Jim at the Minister's house, or Spock at the power plant. They weren't safe, any of them, while the _Enterprise_ was away.

McCoy tugged the blanket up around his shoulders. He held the ends closed in front of him with one hand while resting the other in his lap. The dogs had thrown him a bone. He guessed that meant he wasn't meat yet. Oh sure, they were all service dogs, they'd been trained, but none of them had harnesses. It wasn't a stretch to deduce that they'd escaped and formed their own pack.

That couldn't bode well for the colony. These dogs were so well trained… Whatever telepathic influences the Matrians had over them appeared to be gone. The dogs were slipping in and out of the colony, stealing supplies by the looks of things. What sort of upset had the colonists caused in this ecosystem? Perhaps they trained these animals too well. They may have provided the key to their own demise…

Before his train of thought got too dark, Rin Tin Tin padded over to him again. If McCoy could read anything, the dog looked somewhere between bored and concerned. He had that head tilt going on, but his eyes… They were very much like dogs' eyes- Earth dogs, the kind McCoy was used to- but there was something else too. Speculation was cut short when Doctor Dog licked his face and started prodding him toward the floor. McCoy was ushered into lying down, and Rin Tin Tin seemed satisfied.

 _I'm meant to sleep, I suppose._ McCoy craned his neck to see the exits again, but there were so many dogs. He didn't have a chance, either way. Rest would do him good. After all he'd been through-… He shook the thought out of his head. Jim and Spock would be looking for him, he was sure. And besides, staying put increased his chances of being found. McCoy settled into the most comfortable position he could before pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

Whatever in the world was going on here, McCoy was in for a long night.

* * *

"Captain, I suggest you sit down before you injure yourself."

"I'm a hunnerd percent fine, Spock. We gotta go after Bones. Which way'd he go?"

Spock caught Kirk's arm before the Captain had a chance to dive face-first into the carpet. In an attempt to escort the Captain back to his quarters, Spock had discovered something alarming: Kirk could not stand on his own two feet.

"I know that face." Jim jabbed a finger into Spock's chest. "You're thinking I've had too much to drink, 's that it, Spock? Well, I'll have you know I only hadda single glass of wine."

Spock's eyebrow rose. Despite the evidence to the contrary, he was inclined to believe his Captain. Kirk didn't smell _too_ strongly of alcohol, only the faintest scent on his breath, which his Vulcan sense of smell had registered immediately. His behavior had Spock considering other explanations. There wasn't sufficient evidence…

"Captain, a single glass of wine, you said?"

Kirk hiccupped. "Tha's right, Spock. Now, let me go so we can find Bones." He shoved against Spock's grip, but soon gave up and fell further onto his First Officer. Spock took a balancing step back and adjusted his hold.

"Fascinating…" It was out of his mouth before he finished coming up with his hypothesis. "Captain, I believe you have been drugged." It was a simple conclusion. At the power plant, Spock had been offered a sample of Matrian Wine. He had turned it down, of course, but the fact that it had been produced piqued his interest. Why would the director of the power plant have such a beverage on hand? The answer was as plain as the wobble in Kirk's step: the director _would not_.

Kirk stumbled again, this time groaning and clutching at his stomach. "Spock, I think there was something wrong with that fancy wine…"

Spock did not sigh. "Indeed, Captain." He picked up his pace, dragging Kirk more than guiding him. If they were to find McCoy, Spock would need to make sure whatever was in his Captain's system would not harm him further.

His thoughts returned to the upended vase. It would be far too human to say that he could only hope the doctor did not suffer such violence.

* * *

He'd named the rest of the dogs- the ones that interacted with him- by this point.

The night had gone smoothly enough. He'd been unconscious for most all of it. The only time he'd woken up was when Rin Tin Tin and the spotted puppy showed up for a bandage change. He'd distracted himself with the puppy, named him Chance, and let Doctor Dog reapply the leaves.

The angry older one had been named 'Shadow', since he was always at Chance's side, and the giant lady was Miss Rev, since she seemed to be in charge. Asta hadn't given him another ounce of attention.

Now, the doctor was sitting on the floor. It seemed to be his designated place. The dogs had put out a blanket for him to sit on, and one of them- a giant softie he'd dubbed Beethoven- had brought him some fruit. It was a broad assortment; almost as if they were trying to determine what kind of things he ate. Maybe not all of these dogs were trained as well as Rin Tin Tin and his compatriots…

He'd stayed on his carpet with his fruit for as long as he could stand it. Before too long, McCoy started getting antsy. Watching all these dogs come and go was driving him up the wall. He had to do something, anything, other than sit here and toss around what passed for an apple on this planet.

McCoy got up at last. He took his blanket with him, but he was going to get a look around. Hopefully, Asta wasn't on full-time guard duty. He didn't want to have to sit around _all_ day. That, and the leaves kept falling off his arm. It wouldn't do to let Rin Tin Tin's hard work go to waste. McCoy headed towards one of the big baskets in the room, one of the ones he knew contained useful supplies.

The first one he found was full of cutlery and napkins and the like. Linens could be useful, provided he could get his hands on some scissors. Knives would be hard to managed one-handed. That reminded him- he needed to get his hands on some painkillers if he could find them. These doggies didn't seem to be looking out for him in that respect.

Linens yes, scissors no. McCoy sighed. What was that thing Spock said? 'Stone knives and bear skins'? It was from some story he couldn't recall. Some escapade. He decided whatever Spock had been doing, the sentiment remained. This would be difficult.

At least the knives were sharp. If he'd had his boots with him, this would be a little easier. McCoy decided the most efficient way to get the pieces he needed cut would be to hold part of the napkin in his teeth and push down the other end with his heels until he could get a sizeable slice in. His weight should do the trick. Either way, this had to be done. _It's not like I haven't managed worse. Lord knows those first few years in Starfleet were rougher than this…_

It wasn't until he was halfway through the first napkin when McCoy realized he had an audience. Fabric still in his teeth, he turned to find Rin Tin Tin standing behind him, a little ways off. The dog had his head cocked one way, examining him. When it was apparent the big guy wasn't making a move to interfere, McCoy got back to work.

He quickly finished shredding the linen. The once-rectangular napkin was now one long strip with square corners stuck evenly in it. He took one end back in his teeth again and started wrapping over the leaves. Now, Rin Tin Tin came in for a closer look. _Maybe field medicine of this caliber isn't taught in doggy day care. I'll show Doctor Dog a thing or two!_

"See here, I'm just glossin' on top of your handiwork." He didn't stop to think of the dog equivalent of 'handiwork' and continued explaining around the fabric. "This way, all the leaves will stick on and we won't have to worry about them keeping." McCoy finished wrapping up and tied off the ends. While secure, the wrist and hand weren't much usable. His tentative assessment was leaning toward muscle damage, but the already shaky feeling in his stomach derailed that train of thought. Later, then.

The second napkin could be refashioned into a triangle sling, and that wouldn't take more than a minute. He was up and displaying his progress to Rin Tin Tin in a few moments. The dog didn't seem terribly impressed. McCoy snorted and wandered off. _Everyone's a critic. Even the dogs._ He resolved to leave it well alone and do some proper exploring. _Not like they're letting me go anywhere else. Might as well get some information. When Jim and Spock find me, they'll want to know what's going on here._

The cave system was pretty straightforward in its layout. There was a long, continuous main tunnel with off-shooting corridors and openings that were being used for various purposes. Most of the dogs didn't give him a second glance while he explored, but some of them stopped for a scratch behind the ears. They all seemed to _really_ like that one… He wondered if belly rubs were favorable to this species as well. Might be a trifle hard with how big these dogs were, but McCoy considered giving it a shot if the opportunity arose.

Midway through his exploration of a supply room, McCoy was struck with a realization- he had no clue as to how these caves were lit. Some rooms were dark, some were lighter, and most had enough light for him to see more than comfortably. If this was a wild pack, how did they accomplish it? Was there some sort of natural lighting?

He did set off on a search for the answer and discovered something interesting. There was what looked like a mineral substance stuffed into the odd divot or crack in the cave walls. It glowed, unsurprisingly, but McCoy was more concerned with its placement. These deposits had been placed deliberately, but many were in locations where the dogs wouldn't be able to reach, regardless of their height. Some deposits were crammed into cracks in the ceiling. Others were stuffed farther into a space than a dog could reach. Some even out of McCoy's range. _As Spock would say, 'Fascinating'!_

McCoy continued touring the cave system. He came across some more puppies looking for love, as well as several rooms that were being used as barracks. That was where he did most of the ear scratching. A few played that silly game with the squirming around, but most would patiently wait for him to seek out the best spot to scratch. There were many wagging tails in the big hall.

He did see Miss Rev directing some dogs with those over-large baskets. They moved like a well-oiled machine. The baskets were managed efficiently and with a good degree of precision. Miss Rev knew what she was about. McCoy could only assume, from what little he could wrap his brain around about this wild pack, that she was their leader. She was the right age and certainly strong enough. Her ears stayed perked up while she directed traffic, the white tips making her stand out amongst the others.

She spared him a look, but like most of the others, Miss Rev deigned to ignore him. That was just fine. McCoy wasn't done exploring. He had plenty of things to look at, as well as an abundance of fruit to eat. Every other dog that he visited seemed to have a piece to give him. McCoy didn't know how to carry it all. Seeing a dog with a bigger basket gave him an idea, so he folded up his blanket like a sack and started accepting gifts. This was surreal, and he didn't want to miss a minute of it. _Wait until Jim hears about this. Heck, wait until I tell Spock!_

Somewhere in the middle of a group of puppies, McCoy found out just what Asta did in this place. The doctor was giving one of the big sweeties a pet when the whole group backed off suddenly. Troubled, McCoy had tried to call them back, until he felt the hot breath on the back of his neck. _Déjà vu._

He'd turned, swallowed hard, and tried to talk the big guy down. Asta wasn't having any of it. He barked at the puppies McCoy had been playing with, and they all scattered. To add insult to injury, Asta picked McCoy up by the collar and dragged him back to his square. The doctor had struggled at first. Being hauled out like a misbehaving puppy was undignified and somewhat painful.

He'd been deposited on the blanket without much ado. The landing had been rough. It wasn't too fun falling from about his own height onto the floor. Rin Tin Tin had appeared out of thin air, and he and Asta had a bit of a stare down. It made more sense now. Asta wasn't in charge of the whole operation, but he had authority. This was a Security Chief if McCoy didn't know better. It was starting to look like the pack had more organization than he had assumed. Again, it crossed his mind: what kind of mental training had they been given? Were the Matrians conditioning them for more than simple chores?

After Asta left, Rin Tin Tin found McCoy's bag of fruit. It was the most longsuffering look he'd ever received from a dog, and he couldn't help but grin and hold out a purple ball. "You want a piece, boy?"

Rin Tin Tin snubbed him, and McCoy shrugged. He'd make an attempt at peeling this monstrosity with one hand before he gave up and ate one of the easier ones. Doctor Dog could go find his own fruit, thank you very much.

* * *

Spock had played one of Jim's better cards: plausible extreme ignorance.

He pretended to discover McCoy's disappearance the minute that his Captain had recovered enough to sleep on his own without danger of injury. Kirk would have to sleep off much of whatever he'd been given the previous evening. That much was out of Spock's control.

Spock was gratified to see that the colony's Chief of Security was on the case. Chief Cadrit was a larger man who took a no-nonsense approach to the investigation- _to a point._

After thoroughly examining the room- they found nothing- Cadrit made his confusion plain.

"Commander, I can't tell you what could've happened. There's no reason for the Doctor to have been harmed. He had done nothing to anger any of the colonists, nor do I know of any individual who had a personal grudge against him." Cadrit had been recording everything on his PADD with precision. "In fact, I do not believe anyone on this planet save yourself and the Captain had ever encountered the Doctor in any sense."

Something about Cadrit's phrasing resonated in Spock's mind, but he couldn't place the sensation at the time. There were more important things than syntax to be dealt with at the moment.

"That may be so, but the facts stand. Our doctor is missing, and he has yet to turn up anywhere. Regardless of whether anyone on this colony has a motive, McCoy has still disappeared."

Cadrit pursed his lips. "This is true, Commander. Did McCoy have any peculiar habits? Perhaps he was sleepwalking. It is not common among Matrians, but I believe that humans are somewhat prone to nocturnal misadventure?"

"I do not believe McCoy has ever shown such tendencies. Not as long as I have known him, at least. There is a possibility, however, and I appreciate your dedication. Exploring all possibilities and eliminating the impossible will most definitely aid in our search."

Cadrit nodded and glanced back into the room. "I'm sorry… That is, I wish there was something to be found."

Another interesting turn of phrase. Spock filed it away for later speculation. Cadrit left, and Spock combed the room one more time for good measure. Nothing.

Spock had learned all he needed to in McCoy's temporary quarters. He had gone over all of the evidence- or lack thereof- himself. Now it was time to meditate. The Captain would wake in a matter of hours, and Spock wanted something to show for his work.

Wherever the Doctor was, he would need to be a little more patient.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slightest of medical ickyness in this chapter.

The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on McCoy. He knew perfectly well that he was being held captive by a large group of larger canines, but- heaven help him- logic dictated that staying put would increase his chances of being rescued. It had been a full night, and the better part of a day. Jim and Spock would definitely come looking for him. Heck, as soon as the ship got back- provided he hadn't already been rescued by that point- they could scan the entire planet and beam him up in a heartbeat.

And this wasn't half bad. They had given him his weight in fruit in exchange for some head pats. He'd stayed in prisons before. There was the brig of the Klingon vessel he'd spent a good couple of hours in before being rescued, there was that dungeon, and the other one, and the list went on…

But, McCoy was starting to get used to the setup. His stomach told him it was lunch, but none of the dogs stopped working to eat or anything like that. They likely had a different schedule since they were trained around work hours.

The green fruit was the best one. It was easy enough to peel, and it wasn't too messy. McCoy had dribbled just a little on his shirt, but it didn't smell or stick too bad. Overall, something he'd definitely recommend to Jim. There was a wide selection of things he'd tell them about, even if the Matrians already knew about a lot of this fruit. The purple ones were hardest to open, but they had pomegranate-like seeds inside. McCoy decided Spock would like the red ones that were shaped like spoons and tasted like grass. It seemed like an efficient-yet-bland combo the hobgoblin would be all over.

Sometime during McCoy's foray into the last of his green fruits, Chance appeared in one of the tunnels and padded over to him. The doctor stuck out his hand as was customary by this point, and Chance wagged his tail happily. The big puppy plopped down next to the blanket and lowered himself all the way to the floor. McCoy found that the gigantic head was easier to scratch when it was closer to a level he was used to. That, and Chance had spots on the top of his head as well.

"Well, howdy there, puppy dog. Miss me much?" McCoy licked the juice off his fingers before giving Chance a proper scratch. Chance, in turn, wagged his tail happily.

McCoy smiled. "I missed you too. Seems like nobody around here even remembers I'm here unless I try to leave. It's awful lonely all by myself…"

Chance looked appropriately sad, and McCoy redoubled his efforts. This dog was an excellent listener.

"I miss Jim. Spock too, for all the green-blooded computer gets on my nerves… I'm worried about 'em. If they… If whoever grabbed me got their hands on either of them…"

McCoy's hand slowed and he shuddered. The first time had been one thing. He was willing to take that so Jim wouldn't have to. The chill of the wall at his back, the icy fingertips pressing on his face, they were worth it if it meant that Spock wasn't going after Jim instead. But, this time McCoy genuinely knew nothing. He couldn't keep Jim or Spock safe. He couldn't protect either of them if he didn't have the information these people wanted…

Chance pushed up off the ground and started licking McCoy's face. Just a little slobbery, but it helped him shake the gloomy train of thought.

"Shucks, boy, you sure know how to cheer a feller up." He reached a hand around to rub Chance's neck, and the big puppy dropped its head into McCoy's lap. The weight came as a bit of a surprise, but Chance was warm and he needed some company right now. McCoy smiled sadly and went back to work on the puppy's ears. _Poor thing only wants to help. He's a big sweetheart, that's what he is._

They sat there like that for a long while. McCoy rested his bad arm between Chance's head and his stomach while he chatted away at his puppy friend. Chance's tail swished on the floor at the edge of the blanket. They had peace for a good little bit.

Unfortunately, Asta was raining on all sorts of parades today. One little rumble and Chance was on his feet, standing at attention. McCoy shuffled back quickly. When one of these big dogs really moved, you needed to get clear _fast_. Asta gave him a sidelong glare before returning to his task. Almost on cue, Shadow joined the party. To McCoy, it seemed like the two dogs were never separate for long. He and Chance seemed to work together all the time.

Not a moment later, the pair of them took off down one of the exit tunnels. McCoy was left alone with the giant. Asta glared down his nose but did nothing else. That was one of the more unnerving parts about this. Most all the dogs were friendly save this one. Asta looked at him like he was a worm, lower perhaps. When McCoy stood up straight, he could look the big guy right in the eyes. He swallowed hard, silently praying Asta wouldn't use him as a chew toy.

His luck held. The big bully left with only a glare. McCoy breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't stand a chance against any of these dogs, let alone the suspected Security Chief. As soon as he forgot the danger he was in, something else would come around to remind him. These dogs meant business. Whether it was for their own good or the colonist's ill, they would be a formidable force to contend with.

'Impending doom' couldn't have had better timing if McCoy had written it out himself. No sooner had he relaxed than Asta reared his ugly head again, this time with Lady Rev and Rin Tin Tin in tow. McCoy had the urge to scoot back as far away from the large trio as he could, but he was frozen in place. The best he could do was curl his bad arm against his chest and hope they wouldn't go for the throat.

Rin Tin Tin made the approach first. He came up as he always had, surveying his patient and the doctor's improvised dressing. But, when McCoy was obstructed by Doctor Dog's body, the big goober gave him a quick peck on the forehead. That was a surprise. But, the look in the big guy's eyes was nothing like the half-lidded glares he'd been dishing out all day. McCoy felt a little better about this. Whatever was coming down on him, Rin Tin Tin had his back. Who knew doggy kisses could be so reassuring?

His colleague backed off, and McCoy found himself facing the two people- _dogs_ \- ultimately in charge of his fate. He had to mentally shake himself and remember that this was all real. _Stranger than fiction, or so they say. I think I understand what they were driving at, now._

Lady Rev approached next. He was awed by her commanding presence since, well, she was a dog. A very big dog, but the fact of the matter was still out of his grasp. How did this pack work? What sorts of hierarchies and pecking orders had been ingrained into the minds of these animals? They behaved almost like a colony. Maybe that was it. Maybe the Matrians had instilled so much of their process into these animals that it had imprinted. The escapees might have subconsciously edited their pack dynamics to match their training. It was all very fascinating, but there was still one big question: What did the dog colony want with _him?_

Observation had told him she was in command, so McCoy sat as still as possible. He'd let her conduct whatever search she wanted, and then she might leave him alone. Sure enough, Lady Rev was investigating. She sniffed his hair, his clothes, even the fruit stains on his shirt. One odd thing he noticed was that she kept going back to his head and face. That long snout was combing his hair. She even went so far as to give his face an experimental lick. McCoy sat very still and waited.

Eventually, Lady Rev stopped nosing around his face. She moved on to his arm, giving the injured one only a cursory glance, before looking at the other. The last of the fruit juice was examined. McCoy's fingers were given a thorough sniffing. Lady Rev nosed his hand up off the floor and held it on the end of her snout. He froze. Heart stuttering, McCoy hoped this wasn't the trick where the dog held a treat on the end of its nose, and then at the command….

The big Lady wasn't too keen on eating him yet. She bounced his hand on the end of her nose for a minute before letting it flop more in the middle of her face. They sat there like that a long while. McCoy wasn't willing to try anything, not with Asta glaring daggers at him, and Lady Rev was absorbed in her study. By all appearances, McCoy was a fascinating specimen.

Eventually, she stood and exchanged some silent signal with Asta. The big bully looked affronted, but he paid attention to whatever nonverbal signals Lady Rev was giving him. Finally, Asta grunted and left. McCoy could breathe much easier.

It seemed like the big Lady noticed his relief. She cocked her head sideways and stared at him. It was a funny look coming from such a grand dog and McCoy couldn't help but grin. That caused an even greater reaction. He could see her figurative eyebrows rising. It was almost a Spock look, now that he thought about it. The comparison dimmed his smile a little. Spock and Jim were still somewhere outside, and he didn't have a clue as to where.

Lady Rev was still watching him. She paused a moment before moving closer and angling her nose up towards his. The stately Lady was crouched comically in front of him. If he didn't know better, McCoy would say she was concerned.

When she just blinked at him, he had an idea. Lady Rev hadn't bitten his hand off yet, so maybe- secretly- she liked head scratches like so many of these big doggies. McCoy lifted his hand slowly and worked his fingers around the backs of her ears. He was amazed by her patience with him, but his thoughts kept straying back to Jim and Spock. Where were they? Were they safe? Had they… He couldn't help but think that they'd been captured and tortured as well.

After all, if these people wanted information, wouldn't they go to the highest ranking officers first? It occurred to him that Jim and Spock could've already been worked over long before he was abducted. They could be lying out in the fields, hurt and alone… Maybe they'd been separated. Maybe Jim had been taken at the Minister's dinner, and Spock after the power plant tour. They probably never knew, same as him. _Didn't see it coming. Should've-…_

A wet nose nudged his face. McCoy had entirely forgotten about Miss Rev. She was still crouched next to him, and he had his hand resting between her ears. McCoy withdrew, worried he'd upset the big Lady. She didn't seem affronted, but she did stand and retreat to the far corner of the chamber. A reddish dog was bringing in a large basket, and she stopped her at the entrance. McCoy watched the short exchange. Miss Rev was giving orders, and the other dog was complying. Perhaps this was a messenger dog, since she left pretty quickly.

Soon, Miss Rev was standing at his side again. She eyed him for a moment before bending down and nudging his leg. That said 'get up'. McCoy obliged her. He got to his feet and awaited orders, because right now, that looked like what she was giving out. He couldn't forget that she was the pack's leader, however the hierarchy worked here. She nosed at the blanket and he picked it up.

McCoy was bid to follow. He wadded up his blanket and stuck close to the big Lady's side. She was moving quickly, but his legs were working fine. A quick pace was no problem. They were headed a different direction from where he had explored before, anyhow. He saw new mineral fixtures and more streamlined lighting, but the method was the same. Someone or something had it fixed to where this glowing mineral was shoved into just the right cracks to light the room. They passed several more dogs as they came this way, but no one stopped them. _The privileges of traveling with the pack leader…_

The further they went, the stranger the tunnel layout became. The walls looked smoother, less jagged, and consequently the light started to dim. More mineral deposits were found on the ground. The tunnel took on that cave-like quality that the rest of the caverns were missing. That, and the next chamber they came into changed everything.

McCoy stopped in the entrance. The room was dim, enormous, and cold. He noticed these things second. The main attraction was the lake.

In the center of the room, ringed by stacks of glowing rock, was a fair sized body of water. The pool- for it was more like a pool than a lake- looked deep and cold. It wasn't an underground hot spring. That was for sure. The cave system would've been a heck of a lot warmer if it were.

Miss Rev continued into the chamber. She padded forward and started lapping at the water. _Safe, then. Safe for these canines, at least? Is it even water? What I wouldn't give for my tricorder right now…_

She stopped drinking and looked at him expectantly. McCoy swallowed his concern and moved forward. He stopped at the edge of the pool and sat down. While a swim might be fun in other circumstances, he didn't want to freeze to death. The dogs had the advantage of a fur coat to keep them warm. McCoy just had this blanket. He opted to cross his legs and scoop water out of the pool. It tasted clean enough, and he hadn't realized how thirsty he really was.

Miss Rev watched him for a minute before getting another drink. McCoy did some theorizing in between sips. This was an ample supply of water, but no one else seemed to be taking advantage of it. And it was deep in the cave. Quite a nice reserve, should they need to stay underground. That meant that there was either a secondary internal or external source. Maybe they were far enough from the colony to roam free.

It also meant that McCoy was not to leave. He was given water in the farthest depths of the cave, the most secure point in the whole complex. It either said a lot about what they thought of him, or a lot about their organization. Perhaps they'd kept other prisoners before him.

After a few minutes. Miss Rev moved away from the edge of the pool and indicated it was time to depart. McCoy got to his feet and moved to follow her. He thought about the bright side. At least his new warden was letting him stretch his legs.

* * *

Jim woke up in a heap at the foot of his bed. He blinked groggily. Judging by the crick in his neck, he'd been dumped here. Wasn't too unusual. People dropped him places all the time. Enemy commanders, bartenders, Bones…

 _Bones_. Jim shot upright and almost threw himself off the bed. He was in time to see the half-second of panic before Spock's mask slipped back down. It looked like the First Officer had been meditating on the little sofa in the Captain's temporary quarters. So much for that, then.

"Captain. Are you well?" The question was laced with a bit of concern, Spock-style, but Jim recognized it.

"I am, Spock. How about Bones? Any word?"

Spock's expression wasn't promising. Jim's heart sank.

"No. And the Matrian investigator I spoke to said he had no other leads."

Kirk scowled and pounded a fist onto the bedspread. Of course the locals would give up too soon. Bones was still out there somewhere, his gut was telling him so. If the doctor… if he'd run into some sort of real trouble, Jim would be able to feel it. He couldn't explain it, he just knew.

"Then I suppose it's up to us then, Spock."

Spock stood. "Indeed, Captain. I suggest we being our search outside this building. Perhaps we can discover something the officials have missed."

Without further discussion, they left the building and began combing the grounds. Any clue as to where McCoy went wouldn't be as fresh as they'd like, but something was better than nothing. There wasn't anything missing from his room, but that didn't mean nothing had been left behind. It was only logical. No crime was perfect, and Kirk was convinced that this was indeed a crime scene.

Searching along the path first, Kirk had one heck of a time sifting through large paw prints. The dogs seemed to use this route just as often as the people did. These big canines were making things difficult.

Several dogs passed by, bearing loads, but none stopped and none confused the scene further. The Starfleet Officers easily ignored them. Neither of them noticed the reddish dog pause after the corner, after her third lap around the complex.

* * *

McCoy had been left in another chamber. This one was small, too big to be a closet, but smaller than any of the other chambers he'd been in so far. Lady Rev left him to sit on the floor in the corner. The instructions seemed clear enough- sit, stay- but McCoy had to say he was getting antsy. The later it got, the more concerned he grew. Anything could happen in these caverns, never mind the fact that these animals could turn hostile at any moment. Just because Lady Rev was taking him around didn't mean that Asta didn't still have it out for him.

He heard one of the canines approaching and made himself as small target as he could. If he squeezed just so between the crates… It was only Lady Rev, carrying a lumpy sack in her teeth. That was a relief. McCoy sighed. "Oh thank goodness. I thought you were Asta." Lady Rev wasn't catching his drift, but she was a dog and he was expecting too much. Instead of making any attempt to explain, he eyed the sack she was carrying. It was almost a sleeping bag, except it looked more suited for potatoes than people.

"Don't tell me that's gonna be mine." Grabbing the blanket, he pulled it back over his shoulders. "I'm just fine thanks. See? Doctor. Not a potato." Lady Rev gave him that look again, but she decided to leave the sack by the entrance. McCoy couldn't deny his relief. _I'm finally getting through to them._ Maybe his success was lucky, maybe it was something else, but the bottom line was that he wasn't sleeping in a bag tonight. The small victory felt good.

The big Lady circled around to his corner of the room. She nosed open one of the crates and started fishing around inside. It wasn't a minute before McCoy got another blanket dropped on his head. It seemed like these dogs couldn't just pass things along like sensible beings. No, they had to toss blankets around willy-nilly.

McCoy said as much as he struggled to get his head clear of the wool. "Confounded giant dogs, runnin' around without so much as a chew toy between any of y'all to occupy your time. No, gotta drop stuff on people's heads like it's some kind of fun…"

Lady Rev was giving him that look. "Aw, cut it out. Ain't you ever seen kolache before?" She bent down and licked all along the side of his face. Maybe food jokes weren't the order of the day, but she couldn't understand him anyhow. _Next time, though, I'm not mentioning pigs-in-a-blanket._

This attitude change was interesting. One minute, he was beneath her notice, then he was a science experiment, and now…? She was giving him as much attention as the rest of them. More, even, save that from Chance. That big puppy couldn't seem to stay away unless ordered.

Did this mean… McCoy was trying to wrap his mind around a good couple of ideas all at the same time. He was stuck on the theory of the dogs as a military. Obviously, they had commanders. Asta was one, and Lady Rev was heading the operation. Did they still have that dog-like instinct of open affection to those who showed them kindness? Were they really innocent of all this, simply adopting the social model impressed upon them by the colonists?

That made him pause for another thought. Had the colonists been training these dogs for war? It made a certain kind of sense. That would be something the Federation would try and put a stop to for sure. Maybe that was why he'd been dragged out into the middle of nowhere and interrogated. These dogs may have escaped a regime more sinister than any of them had realized.

Lady Rev nudged him and he had to stop thinking. She was after something else now. Not for the first time, McCoy remembered his position. He was a prisoner of whatever system they were running out here. Shuddering not entirely from the chill, he paid more attention.

It wasn't too much longer before he figured out what she was driving at. The big Lady made it very clear. She padded over to a covered spot on the floor and pawed at the ground. He was to come over there. She put her nose to the floor. He was to sit. Further. He was to lie down.

Lady Rev made a couple of passes in front of him before settling down between the doctor and the door. Something had changed. McCoy rolled himself into as small a ball as he could. They were keeping a closer eye on his movements, restricting the areas where he was permitted to go… There was something going on outside, he was sure of it. Something the dogs didn't want him involved in. By all signs, now was the time to lay low and not try any more stunts. It wasn't like he could _now_ , what with the big Lady fixed between him and the door.

McCoy shut his eyes and breathed a quick prayer. Whatever was going on outside… He was more afraid for Jim and Spock than he was for himself.

* * *

Night was falling and Captain Kirk was irritated.

He'd spoken with this investigator and had come away with an impression similar to Spock's. As surprised as he was that it was Cadrit, Kirk was disappointed more than anything. They hadn't found a sign. True, these were living quarters and people did come and go, but most of the rooms in this unit were empty. It was a newer, as-yet unfilled building, but neither of them could find anything out of the ordinary.

Spock had broadened his search to the sidewalk and roadside, while his Captain took another crack at the bushes. The concrete was clean, recently installed, and devoid of clues. However, Spock was determined. He paid no mind as commuting canines passed him by. Wholly focused on his task, Spock examined every crack in the sidewalk, every inch of the grass edging.

His vigilance was rewarded.

"Captain!" Spock called. Kirk poked his head out of the bushes and began disentangling himself. While the Captain was coming, Spock pushed back the edge of the grass so he could get a better look at what he'd found. It wasn't garbage, he could tell that much immediately. The piece of crushed plastic was significant.

"Spock." Kirk was breathless from the hurry. "What did you find?"

The First Officer indicated the spot in the dirt. "It is the cap of a hypospray, Captain."

That changed everything. Kirk put his hands on his hips, scowling at the shards. Now there wasn't a doubt in his mind.

"Then he's been taken, Spock."

His First Officer nodded. "I had come to the same conclusion. It appears that Chief Cadrit was wrong. Someone in this colony does have reason to harm the Doctor."

Kirk shot another glare at the plastic before straightening up and surveying the area. The sun was going down quickly. If they wanted to do any more searching, they'd need equipment. Maybe they could convince Dalarian to lend some hands. If Chief Cadrit was going to be as thorough as Spock had said…

Before he could put his thoughts into words, one of the outdoor speakers crackled to life.

_"All residents are advised to return to their homes. All residents—A pack of wild canines has been detected in the vicinity of the colony. The Defense Squadron has secured the border. Please return to your homes for your own safety. All residents…"_

Kirk and Spock exchanged a look. The wild dogs certainly threw a wrench in their plans.

"Should we ignore the advisory…?" Kirk scanned the area. All of the people and dogs he'd seen milling around had disappeared. It looked like everyone was heeding the warning.

Spock spent another moment contemplating the hypospray cap. "If we retreat to an area of relative safety only until the danger has passed, we will avoid the window of highest risk."

"And Bones?"

That gave Spock a moment of pause. "If he has been taken, his captors will likely take care of him."

"And if they don't? If they're using this attack to… to…"

Kirk couldn't finish and Spock couldn't formulate a response. In the end, they returned to the housing unit and stayed by the window. If there was something to be seen, they hoped they could see it from inside.

* * *

His throat was sore and it was altogether too warm. McCoy didn't want to be awake, but he was slowly coming to realize that he couldn't avoid it. Shifting his weight a little, he discovered he was on the hard floor, but there appeared to be another blanket between him and the ground itself. He also observed that he wasn't alone.

McCoy cracked a puffy eyelid. There was a paw draped on top of him, and the paw was connected to none other than the highest-ranking officer in this whole organization. Lady Rev looked like she'd been dozing, but now her eyes were on him. He blinked, feeling the swollen skin around his eyes squish in response. _Must be allergic to these things…_ The night spent in close proximity to this big dog had done a number on his sinuses.

The big Lady didn't look like she was about to move. McCoy knew he should probably start to keep his distance, but he was bone weary and too cozy to care. It hadn't been a restful sleep, but he couldn't recall any dreams or bouts of insomnia. _It's this cave floor and these shedding dogs._ He decided at last. _If they don't end up eating me, they'll make my immune system destroy itself._

It wasn't strictly true, but he was in no mood for speculation. He supposed his compliance had been key to his survival thus far, and McCoy wasn't about to do anything to upset that. These canines knew he couldn't overpower them, outrun them, or escape by any means of his own. He didn't know where the cave system even was, in relation to everything else. It was a disconcerting thought, but he knew he was dependent on Jim and Spock for his rescue. Anything he did on his own wouldn't pan out. No, he had to be patient if he wanted to make it out of this.

Whatever she had been doing, Lady Rev decided that now was the time to get up and go about her business. She removed her paw from his person and headed towards the exit. Almost on cue, Rin Tin Tin appeared in the door. He inclined his head towards the big boss and padded over to where McCoy was laying on the ground.

"You're up bright and early." He mumbled, turning over and readjusting his blanket. Lady Rev had been supplying most of his warmth, McCoy realized.

Rin Tin Tin prodded him in the back. "Aw, quit it!" McCoy tried waving him off with his good arm. "I'm sure you can respect 'let sleeping dogs lie'! Leave me alone."

There were some small noises and then Doctor Dog took charge of his patient. He rolled McCoy over using only that big snout of his, and then ripped the blanket away with his teeth.

McCoy yelped and curled his knees up closer to his body. That was quite a shock, being exposed to all that cold air. But, it served its purpose well enough. Rin Tin Tin had his undivided attention.

It was only then that he noticed the leaves. "Oh. It's time to change the dressing?"

The dog stared at him, almost as if to say 'Really? You don't say?' McCoy scowled back at him and started undoing the bandage work from earlier. This seemed to interest Doctor Dog immensely. Whatever medical techniques had been taught to him, it didn't look like they quite covered dressing a wound beyond that leaf plaster business.

"It would be a mite hard to do this without hands, wouldn't it?" McCoy glanced back up at his pal before removing the last of the cloth. "There. Fire away, Doctor."

Rin Tin Tin gave him another look before going to work on the leaves. The wounds stung less today, but that deeper pain still lingered. McCoy had worked his fingers into the blanket creases to distract from the ache. It was made all the worse by Rin Tin Tin's jostling, but he knew it would be over soon. And he was right. Not another minute went by before the dog stepped back and McCoy was left to redress his arm.

"Talk about chilly beside manner." He remarked. "Didn't say a word about the whole procedure. What kinda doctor are you, anyhow? Some kind of quack?" Rin Tin Tin didn't look amused. He was a dog, and couldn't care less about the chatter. "More like a bark, I'd say. There. All patched up. You wanna watch me do the sling, too?"

Doctor Dog cocked his head to the side. McCoy shrugged and continued. Another minute passed and he was finished. He showed off the sling before crawling back under his blanket. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He didn't have time to get settled. Rin Tin Tin's ears perked up, and he lunged. Before McCoy had sucked in enough air to yell, the dog had him by the collar and was bolting. Rin Tin Tin knocked over a basket by the door, scattered its contents, and dropped the Doctor inside. McCoy landed on his good shoulder- small miracles- before he felt the whole thing rise into the air. It wasn't too large a basket, more like an average sized crate, but Rin Tin Tin had made sure the important bits of McCoy made it inside before he tore out of there with it in tow.

He was in for a bumpy ride and sure enough, Rin Tin Tin got to a good jogging pace before they slowed down in a different part of the tunnel system. The basket was upended again, albeit more gently this time, and McCoy tumbled out onto the ground.

"Blasted oversized mutts! What in the name of all that's holy-"

He saw the blood. It was dark blue, but it was unmistakable, even in this light. They were in the barracks. Some dogs stood around, tails low and floppy faces anxious, but many more were laid out on the ground. Wounded. Rin Tin Tin had recognized McCoy for what he was and had brought him here. Even more dogs were trickling in through an opening at the end of the room. These were new arrivals- perhaps all of them were. Something had hurt these poor things.

But, that concern was secondary. Right now, he had work to do.

First things first, he flagged down the messenger dog he'd seen Lady Rev with earlier. The reddish dog was lean, a runner, and didn't happen to have anything better to do.

McCoy gestured to the napkin slung around his arm. "Bring me more of these. Lots of these, and on the double!"

The dog stared at him blankly. McCoy had to improvise. He tore off the sling and shoved it in the dog's nose.

"Listen here, _Lassie_. Why don't you fetch something really useful? Get me a whole lotta these so I can help your puppy friends here!"

Rin Tin Tin dropped whatever he'd been doing and came over to reinforce McCoy's point. Whatever he conveyed seemed to get through to her, and the newly dubbed Lassie took off down the tunnel. McCoy turned back to Rin Tin Tin and repositioned his sling. The hand was usable enough to hold things, but the rest of the arm would be a whole other matter. Doctor Dog was giving him another look, but this one was a lot less condescending than the others.

Rin Tin Tin broke off from the main group and started rummaging around one of the big open-topped baskets. When he came out with a mouthful of leaves, McCoy realized just how large the task ahead of them was. There were dozens of dogs, definitely upwards of thirty, and only one Rin Tin Tin.

But, there were bystanders. Bystanders became nurses-in-training when it came to his Sickbay. And for all intents and purposes, this was it. He hurried over to a couple of the nearest rubberneckers and threw his arm around one of their necks.

"Come on, Fido, you've been drafted."

McCoy dragged this dog over to the basket he'd seen Rin Tin Tin fishing around in. He gestured to the top and even had to go so far as to push the dog's head down in there before the big lummox got the gist of it. After that, it wasn't hard to get a line going. Several dogs joined up and started chewing leaves.

Back in the thick of it, McCoy met Rin Tin Tin halfway. He shoved between doctor and patient seldom to never, but with communication barriers like this, he had to make an exception. McCoy's one hand was more efficient in placing bandages than his canine counterpart's tongue, and it only took a second to prove this. Rin Tin Tin left immediately to instruct the new recruits or some such thing. McCoy just earned himself a new job.

They worked out a system pretty quickly. The dogs would chew the leaves and activate whatever made it so useful as a healing agent, and McCoy would dress the wounds. He moved from patient to patient, finding a new pile of leaves to work with every time. Rin Tin Tin's organization was efficient. Between dressings, McCoy saw the influx of volunteers was steadily growing. That, and Lassie had indeed come home.

When that rusty dog returned, McCoy could've just about jumped for joy. She brought not only a good number of napkins, but some other dogs she'd recruited had found proper bandages. He mentally cataloged each new piece of material. Some would go to the heavily wounded, and other large pieces might be put toward splints or impromptu casts. McCoy hadn't been able to get very far through the barracks. In fact, he'd been so caught up with sorting out supplies, that he hadn't realized that there were more levels of casualty than he had initially thought.

Some of these dogs looked awful. There were several lacerations on even the best cases, and the worst were truly a sight. Something had torn them to shreds. His knees almost buckled when he realized _what._ The wave of nausea was close to overwhelming, but McCoy took several deep breaths. He had patients. Now was not the time.

He began sorting. A majority of the casualties were light. Only a few, less than ten, looked to be severe. McCoy would begin with those. He found Lassie and gave her a good pat on the head for her work. She'd brought enough linens, napkins, and usable bandages to make this task feasible.

McCoy gathered enough bandages, rolls, and napkins as he could into one sheet, and then he got ahold of Rin Tin Tin. The worst cases would require more strength and attention than he was capable of giving. This was a two-person… two- _doctor_ job.


	4. Chapter 4

There wasn't anything going on in this part of town. Nothing of note. Kirk was getting anxious. The waiting was the worst part by far. He could handle delaying tactics if there was a battle, or a clear goal ahead of him. This was maddeningly tedious.

"Spock, I think we should go out there." Kirk passed the chair for the hundredth time. The pacing was helping, though not by much.

"According to the colonists' reports, the danger is very real, Captain. There is no guarantee of safety outdoors."

"Safety? Spock, I couldn't care less about safety right now. Nothing is happening out there, and we're wasting valuable time! Bones is still missing, and we haven't found a trace besides that hypospray cap."

Spock had considered that point a few times already. He had speculated on the identity of the Doctor's abductor or abductors, but that line of thought was fruitless since there were no suspects as of yet. The best course of action would be to search. If they had access to the _Enterprise's_ scanners, that would be different. But now, the work would be done on foot. On foot, and in a presently hostile environment.

"Indeed, Captain. I agree with your assessment of the present situation, but it would do the Doctor no good if we were killed while attempting to rescue him. Taking that into consideration…"

It would be difficult to keep Kirk from running off on his own for much longer. The Captain was getting anxious.

"Taking that into consideration, I think it's worth the risk." Kirk stopped again to look out the window. "We both have phasers, and since Bones is out there, I don't think there's anything on this planet that can stop me."

Spock agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment, though all he said was "I do not doubt it, Captain."

Kirk released the curtain and turned to face his First Officer. "It's still pitch dark out, but waiting around until the sun's up might not work. It's been over 24 hours, Spock." Kirk sighed. "I'm worried. The fact that someone had it out for Bones and we never saw a sign… He could be hundreds of miles away. He could be…"

Neither of them readily acknowledged the fact that Doctor McCoy might be dead. It seemed like a real possibility, and it only grew more plausible the longer they waited. Kirk felt like they were watching the sand in the hourglass. It wouldn't help waiting to start too late.

"We will need our tricorders. There is a sufficient difference in Matrian and Terran chemistry to be detected at a short range. This will be our best tactic for locating Doctor McCoy."

Kirk could almost smile. "All right, Spock. Let's get a move on."

By the time they got outside, there was the faintest glow on the horizon. Kirk frowned, and mentally reviewed the reports from this planet. They hadn't been inside _that_ long.

"Spock, are the days shorter on Trievas II?"

Spock inclined his head. "Indeed, Captain. The planet's rotation is faster than that of Earth, shortening the days by 5.82 hours."

Kirk's eyebrows rose. "An eighteen-hour day? That must be something to adapt to."

"Indeed, Captain. It seems we will have to adapt as well."

* * *

He was ready to drop, and he was pretty sure most of the rest of them were too. The needlework had been the hardest part with half an arm out of commission, but much of the rest had been far more exhausting.

McCoy was propped up against Rin Tin Tin's side, covered in alien blood and utterly spent. The last several hours had been full of nonverbal exchanges, miscommunication, surgery, and some of the worst injuries he'd seen in years. Sure, there had been bad days on the ship, but there weren't twenty flayed, thirty shredded waiting for him in the OR. These weren't your run-of-the-mill kind of terrible.

He cringed, now that it was over. The barbed cat-of-nine-tails had devastated these canines, and McCoy could only imagine what the confrontation had been like. He could feel the chill in the room, and he leaned further onto his companion. Rin Tin Tin had worked most of the dire cases before they pulled through. These doggies were tough. They could put up with a lot, and puzzle through a lot more. McCoy had to hand it to whoever had trained the big guy. He certainly wouldn't have been able to do this without Rin Tin Tin's aid.

But now, it would be recovery work. All of the minor cases had pulled through, and the surgeries were all under observation. McCoy had quite the time trying to piece together this biology, but his luck had held and none of their organs had taken damage. Muscle tears were present, and well as deeper cuts than McCoy was used to dealing with. Bigger beings could take bigger hits, he supposed.

Lassie had run off again on an errand- he'd seen Lady Rev send her- and most of the temporary nurses had retired to their beds. Only the newest recruits remained, and that was because they'd been drafted in the night watch.

McCoy rubbed his colleague's head. "We did good today, ol' buddy ol' pal. We did good." They'd been left alone on the side of the room. By some unspoken signal, the rest of the dogs didn't disturb either of them. It was a nice way to catch a break.

Rin Tin Tin wagged his tail lightly. The big softie had finally warmed up to McCoy, and they were reaping the benefits of the newfound friendship when Lady Rev reappeared. She eyed the pair of them warily, before rumbling something to Doctor Dog. His tail stopped wagging, but he listened to whatever she was saying. McCoy stayed put. Wherever the big Lady went, trouble for him soon followed.

It proved to be true again. Rin Tin Tin started standing and McCoy had to scramble to his feet to keep from falling on the floor. Both dogs eyed him again before Lady Rev retrieved the big basket he'd been dragged here in.

"Again?" McCoy wasn't pleased by the idea, but it looked like they were taking him for a ride. The basket was hardly comfortable, and not quite big enough for his legs, but both dogs were looking expectant. McCoy sighed and climbed inside.

He watched Lady Rev's head bob as she carried him through the tunnel system. The further they went, the breezier it felt on his feet until they emerged from the cave system entirely. McCoy could see the stars past the big Lady's head.

Suddenly, he was nervous. What change had come about? Was he allowed to venture outdoors, or were they escorting him somewhere else? Maybe it was a prisoner transfer. He could be going back to Jim and Spock…

McCoy clasped his hands together and waited. It would do no good to squirm around inside the basket. The big Lady would get mad at him and- worst-case scenario- start shaking the thing around. Patience was the order of the day. Heck, maybe it was the weekly special.

The basket hit dirt. McCoy froze, listening for voices, or any other sign. He could hear the grass and something else. It wasn't the smooth whine of an anti-grav cart. It certainly wasn't the van he'd been dragged out here in.

When Rin Tin Tin toppled the basket, his little suspicion was confirmed. They'd brought him to a river. He picked himself up off the grass and stared. There wasn't a sign of civilization, but there weren't any other canines hanging around either. The only other point of interest was the setting sun, now dipped almost all the way behind the horizon.

He didn't know what to do with himself. Was this a pleasure cruise? Did they want something of him? Was the river a threat?

Rin Tin Tin took the lead on this one. He sighed at McCoy before trotting over to the river and diving in. It was bath time. Looking down at his filthy pajamas, the doctor realized that this was less of a hint and more of a plea. How would he feel if one of his nurses ran around bloodstained all the livelong day? Carefully, he removed his sling, and bandages. Cutting the fabric again would be difficult, and he didn't need to bother if he could give what he had a good scrub.

The water was freezing. He didn't know how Rin Tin Tin could stand it. McCoy'd barely gotten up to his ankles before he was ready to quit. But, both dogs were watching him expectantly. He was to bathe, and he was to do it whether he wanted to or not.

It was a painful process. McCoy spent most of his time grumbling about how he didn't have fur to help insulate him, and they hadn't even bothered to stop and let him get a towel. No, he had to wash off in this freezing creek with nothing to look forward to but another miserable night of allergies and-

He paused in the middle of scrubbing his shirt clean. This morning's symptoms had disappeared by the time they'd started surgery. That was strange. By all rights, it should've been worse packed in there with dozens of hairy bodies shedding and kicking up enough dust to kill a man. But, there was no reaction. McCoy began scrubbing again in earnest, trying to puzzle this out.

It was hard to tell whether or not there'd be bloodstains since his shirt was black, but he'd done his best and he didn't want to stand in this water longer than was necessary. McCoy sighed and got ready for the worst part. He needed to be clean, and he wanted to be warm, but he couldn't do either in soaking wet pants. He hoped they'd bring him back to somewhere he could set his clothes to dry while he tried to prevent hypothermia.

As far as prisons went, at least this one was interesting.

* * *

The better part of the day had been spent patrolling the city under the guise of a self-guided tour. Kirk and Spock examined every building they could gain entry to, and the exteriors of all the ones they couldn't. So far, they'd turned up empty.

"It's like he vanished off the face of the planet." Kirk stared at the tricorder in amazement. The range wasn't incredibly short, so they should be able to tell if Bones was being held in any of these buildings. By Spock's report, it looked like he wasn't within the colony at all.

"Not necessarily, Captain. It would take a considerable amount of time to search the entire planet. It is likely that the Doctor remains somewhere around here, only not in the colony itself. " Spock had been turning this point over in his mind. Why drug the doctor if they were only moving a short distance? Security was a plausible motive, but it seemed like excessive force for a short journey.

Kirk stared at the tricorder another moment. "So they've taken him somewhere out of the way… That means we'll either need the minister's help, or the _Enterprise's_ scanners."

Spock nodded. "You assessment is correct."

"But it's discouraging." Kirk got to the heart of the matter. "We don't have any leads. We need something more concrete. A motive, suspects, anything!"

Something stirred in the back of Spock's mind. He paused to latch onto the thought, only to find it cloudy and incomplete. Something Chief Cadrit had said... The hypo cap… There was something he was missing.

But without any clues to go on, both he and his Captain were lost.

* * *

None of these dogs had bothered to take a spare set of clothes when they'd left the colony. Oh sure, they had cutlery and bandages, but no extra shirts, no extra pants.

McCoy had encased himself completely in his blanket once he'd been deposited back in that little cavern where he'd spent the night. Sure, he had his Starfleet-issue shorts- not that he was too concerned out here- but it was the principle of the thing that got to him.

Lady Rev had left him well enough alone anyhow. He'd set his shirt and pants out to dry. No one seemed to need him at the moment. There was a little bit of peace in this crazy day. He had a moment to collect his thoughts.

Despite everything that had happened, he was starting to think these dogs trusted him, or at least judged him to be useful. That, and he was too weak to escape. They had the advantage in strength and speed. Besides that, he was injured. But, he'd been to more places today than they'd let him go before. He got to see the outdoors, even if he didn't recognize a lick of the landscape. Not one of those dogs batted an eye when he started working on their wounded.

Did they see him as a threat? A tool? A novelty, even? Most of the ordinary canines liked stopping him for ear scratches or pats on the head. That could be all he was to them. There was just no way to tell. Whatever the Matrians had done, however they'd conditioned these dogs, they'd organized themselves beyond his ability to understand.

That was a little disconcerting. McCoy supposed now more than ever he was in danger of being disposed of- not by the dogs, but by the Matrians who'd originally wanted to do him in. This must be what they were talking about, him knowing something he shouldn't. The leader had gone through his memories of the day, including that first encounter with Chance. Maybe they thought he'd discovered their secret. Maybe their training methods weren't so innocent as they might claim.

But what were the big dogs then? Were they servants or weapons? McCoy could imagine how a pack of these puppies could wreak havoc on an unsuspecting population. Heck, they could even be trained as assassins and given as pets to unsuspecting dignitaries. Whatever the Matrians were training them for, it seemed important enough to kill for.

McCoy lay back on the larger blanket. This whole thing was a mess, more so than he'd first thought. And, he was no closer to getting back to Jim and Spock. He knew that they'd be searching for him, but whatever danger was in the colony might seek them out before the ship got back. He couldn't even warn them…

The day caught up with him quickly, and McCoy was nearly asleep when Lady Rev returned. She pondered him for a moment before settling down into her old spot. _Still a prisoner_. McCoy reminded himself. _There are big things between me and freedom, and only one of them happens to be a dog._

He yawned and curled himself up into a comfortable position. The only thing to do was sleep. He'd already committed himself to waiting it out.

_"Let's get on with it."_

Frozen. He was riveted to the spot. There was nowhere to run or hide. He knew he wasn't fast enough to get away. The hands pulled at his arms, his shirt, anything they could get a hold of. McCoy was trapped in the grip of a thousand fingers, each digging a nail into his skin. Everywhere he fought, another hand pulled him back. They were moving up. New sets pushed past the hands on his shoulders. His neck, his face. Nothing was free. He was suffocating.

 _"I can't take your word for it._ "

It wasn't enough that they had him, no, they weren't finished. It had only just begun. The bodiless hands dragged Jim out onto the floor. Spock was right behind him. They were equally powerless; unable to do anything to prevent what was coming. McCoy knew. He'd seen it before, but he couldn't warn them. He could scream all he wanted and they'd never hear.

_"Doctor, it is time for answers!"_

He pleaded for them to stop. They could kill him. They could do whatever they wanted, if only they'd let Jim and Spock _go_. McCoy would do anything. If they'd just make it stop. If they'd _stop it_ -

"No! Please, just let them go! Make it stop! I'll do anything, just _make it stop!_ "

The words felt harsh in his throat. McCoy was yelling them before he was even aware. Jim and Spock were in danger. That was all he could think about.

Something wet came into contact with his face. It wasn't another hand steeped with malice. He took in a shaky breath when he recognized it for what it was: one of the dogs.

The shaking didn't stop, even though he was awake, but McCoy was gladder than anything that he wasn't alone. He could still feel that phantom chill on his shoulders, and he couldn't face that by himself. Whichever dog had run to his aid was being remarkably gentle. He supposed it was Rin Tin Tin or Chance. Those two seemed to care, on whatever level they were capable of. He rolled over and buried his face in that fur coat. _What a night… What a night!_

He lay there, nestled between a thick blanket and a ball of fur. It had been a long time since he'd had a nightmare like this. Sore throat, burning eyes from holding back tears- McCoy remembered waking up this morning, and decided it hadn't been so long after all. This madness had been creeping up on him for a while. He'd been lucky to avoid it so far. Most waking minutes, he didn't think about it. There had been episodes, but he'd been lulled into a false sense of security. He had a long way to go, still, and possibly the only thing that could really fix it was getting back to Jim and Spock. Making sure they were all right.

His companion nudged his head with its nose. McCoy stayed down. He needed a minute. More than that, he needed real help. This wasn't the kind of thing you just walked away from. He'd learned that well enough the first time. But, the persistent nuzzling continued until McCoy was forced to pick his head up and address whatever it was this dog wanted.

It was Lady Rev. That shocked him right out of it. _She'd_ come to his rescue? This didn't make a lot of sense. He wasn't anything to her besides a prisoner, or perhaps a novelty. That was why she was keeping such close tabs on him, wasn't it? He ran the facts over in his mind again. This room was pretty far from the barracks. It occurred to him that this might be her personal quarters. Maybe she hadn't just come to his rescue. Maybe she'd been watching out for him all this time.

She nudged his shoulder. McCoy looked up at her, a question in his eyes. Had the big Lady taken a shine to him? What did that mean? For now, it meant he was to get up. There was no shirt for her to grab onto. McCoy sat up and waited, too bewildered to think much beyond his current move. Lady Rev got up and moved over to the side of the room. She returned with his clothes. He was relieved. If they were moving anywhere, he'd like more than this blanket to keep him warm.

Once he was dressed, she got him moving. McCoy was guided down the long corridor and up to the pool.

"Oh." She'd brought him up for a drink. It would be something refreshing. For the moment, it was keeping his mind occupied. He walked over to the pool and sat at the edge. A drink would do him some good. Now that he was mostly awake, he could feel the ache in his throat. McCoy splashed some water on his face for good measure.

Once he'd finished, Lady Rev walked him back to his blanket. McCoy started to get anxious when she sat him back down. Now that he knew he was having nightmares, he didn't want to go back to sleep. Well, the big Lady couldn't control that, just where he went. He settled down in his blanket nest and stared at the ceiling. There was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep now.

To his amazement, Lady Rev settled down next to him. He watched as she picked up one of her legs and draped it on top of him before using her paw to drag him closer. McCoy almost laughed. He was a life-size teddy bear. At least she was careful with him. She seemed to understand that he was small and fragile, not that McCoy agreed with that assessment himself. Comparatively, maybe. Anything else was a blow to his pride.

This made it easier to relax. He wasn't settled by any means, but at least wasn't alone.

* * *

They didn't make it to the Minister's quarters. Midway through the walk, Kirk had been waylaid.

It happened so quickly that Spock wasn't able to rush to his aid right away. The Captain struggled, but his attacker was much bigger than he was, and bigger than many he'd fought before.

At least the hairy mongrel wasn't biting him. Kirk kept trying to push it away, but he was met with heavy resistance. The dog seemed intent on something, but he had no idea what.

"Spock! A little help here? This thing is suffocating me!" He managed to get a hand on the dog's face, but it was strong. Spock hurried over and wrapped his hands around the giant canine's neck. Hopefully, it wouldn't be able to take the both of them.

To their surprise, the dog stopped instantly. It turned and began sticking its nose all over Spock. Once it had moved on, Kirk picked himself off the ground. He usually never had problems with dogs. This one seemed to have gone haywire. From his experience, the Matrians had a better handle on their pets than this. What had happened?

Spock looked… Well, if Jim didn't know better, he'd say _alarmed_. Spock's eyebrows had retreated to his hairline, and he was staring at the dog like it had grown a second head right there in front of him.

"Spock?" Nothing about this was ordinary, but Jim knew that look meant business.

"Captain." Spock's attention was locked in on the dog. "I… I'm sensing…" He stopped abruptly.

"What? What is it, Spock?" He moved forward to give his First Officer a hand, but the dog had stilled. Something was up.

"I'm sensing an intelligence, Captain."

It was Jim's turn to look surprised. "An intelligence? Like, a remainder of the Matrians' influence? Or something else?" Could something or someone be controlling the dog?

"I do not know… Perhaps…" Now _that_ was a look Jim recognized. Spock was going to try a mind meld with this animal. What he was going to get, Jim had no idea, but all sorts of theories from hive minds to brainwashing popped into his head.

"Be careful, Spock." He figured Spock would do it regardless of what he said. Vulcans' curiosity was not a thing to be trifled with.

Spock moved his hands around the dog's face, searching for the meld points on this uncommon head structure. Jim watched, uneasy. There were so many ways for this to go wrong…

"Captain." Spock looked… Jim couldn't quantify the expression on his First Officer's face. Whatever he'd found in the short time he'd been melding, it had been noteworthy.

"What did you find?"

Spock looked back at the dog, contemplating something. When he returned his attention to the Captain, his expression read more as 'intrigued'.

"I believe you should, as you say, 'come see for yourself'."

Dumbstruck by all of this, Jim moved closer to the dog. It was totally ordinary, as far as he could tell. Reddish fur, but nothing unusual here. Stranger than anything was Spock's reaction. He held out one of his hands. Jim leaned forward. It looked like he was going to be participating in this mind meld too.

" _So this is how your kind does it! Different, but more pleasant, I think."_

Jim gasped. The voice in his head was _not_ Spock's. It was… It couldn't be…

" _We were not so sure at first, either. It took experimentation to determine the invaders were sentient. I do not hold this against you."_

He didn't understand much of that, but it sounded more amused than anything else. This was one heck of a first contact. Spock, more quick-witted, opened up the conversation. He spoke the words for Jim's benefit, because this was weird enough as it was, but his question was directed at the dog. Well, Jim couldn't really think of it as a dog now, could he? This was a new sentient species. That point in itself was cause for alarm, but for now he'd sit back and listen to the conversation.

"Forgive me, but we were not aware your species was sentient either. We were lead to believe by the colonists that you were animals of labor, trained and organized by the colonist's will and not your own."

Jim didn't hear the laugh, but he could feel the dry humor through the connection.

" _Is that how they explained to you? That sounds like their way. No, we were not trained, only enslaved. Most of us, that is. Several have escaped the invaders' notice. We are in hiding, but they do not seem to be able to tell one of us from another. This is being used to our advantage. For instance, I have been watching you for a long while."_

Jim and Spock exchanged a glance more out of habit than necessity. They could sense the surprise between them.

"Indeed?" Spock recovered first. "For what purpose?"

The dog didn't smile, but Jim could feel the emotional equivalent of a cheeky grin. " _My orders were to observe you. One of our more gifted spies was able to detect your sentience. Mind you, it is harder with you creatures. You do not project. This must be the reason for your spoken language, yes? To be always touching is a difficult way."_

"Orders?" Jim asked. He wasn't sure how this worked, so he would do as Spock did. "Whose orders?"

" _You are the commander, I gather. Well, I have my commander as well. The old council was not all taken. Some survive still. Our leader requested that I seek you out."_

Remarkable. Jim couldn't quite wrap his head around this all at the moment. Maybe it was the meld. Maybe the entire stay was catching up with him. He'd been drugged. That was going to be his excuse.

"From what I gather, you're being enslaved, most of you, by the colonists? And your leaders have been scattered? Why seek us out? Forgive my confusion, but I can't figure out what would lead you to trust humanoids after that kind of experience."

Spock's approval at the question filtered through the meld before he put a tighter clamp on the thought flow. They both wanted to hear the answer to that question.

" _You are correct. That is a short version of the events that have transpired. These 'colonists' are invaders. They have taken what doesn't belong to them, and their attacks are too powerful for us to resist. They have killed many and captured many more. Those enslaved live in fear. We in the resistance try to gather information, or look for weaknesses. Sometimes we are able to free some of them. Other times…"_

The dog stopped suddenly. Jim could feel a deep sadness, something he wasn't entirely prepared for. But, the dog pulled it together quickly.

" _Forgive me. I will answer your questions. First, allow me to introduce myself. I am Ramicran, messenger to the council, daughter of Crani- now passed."_

Jim didn't get another wave of sadness, so he supposed her father's passing hadn't been recent. That, and Ramicran might be an adult. He couldn't tell very well how old these canines were.

"A pleasure. I am Commander Spock of Vulcan, and this is Captain Kirk of Earth. We belong to a Federation of planets that expressly forbids the actions taken against your species. The actions of the colonists will be reported and dealt with severely. But, if you would not mind continuing for the present…?"

Spock wanted info, and fast. Jim almost smiled.

" _I am glad to hear it. We have faced many atrocities at their hands. It is for that reason that we did not attempt contact with you initially. It was not until our scouts discovered the good nature of your charge that we changed our minds. After all, often the master is judged by the temperament of his pet-"_

Hang on. "Our charge? One like us, or…?" Jim's heart soared. If the dogs had found McCoy and taken care of him…

" _Very much like you. If it had not been for our scouts, we would have assumed all your kind were like him. Fortunately, Scout Conna has a powerful mind. He sensed the good nature of your pet right away. Even Councilwoman Mumidran has accepted him like one of her own… Poor thing. He was found in deplorable shape. The work of the invaders. They treat all who are not like them as if they are dirt. Worse, perhaps."_

Jim turned to Spock for some sort of clarification. Not a word of that made sense to him, except the prospect that these dogs had found McCoy. Fortunately, Spock chose to field this curveball.

"Doctor McCoy is our colleague, not our pet. I am curious as to how you arrived at this conclusion."

Ramicran projected confusion. " _But he does not communicate. He is skilled as a healer, but that can only be training, can it not? Your McCoy, as you call him, is kind but… You are saying he is sentient as well?"_

This was a bigger disaster than Jim had realized. "Yes! He's a skilled physician and our friend. If your Conna is as skilled as you claim, how could you think McCoy is anything less than a fully capable-"

Spock cut him off. "I believe I see the issue. Ramicran, your species has telepathic abilities. Your scout discovered us through _my_ telepathic ability. The Captain, and most humans like him, has no such skill. Verbal speech is their primary method of communication."

At this, Ramicran was as shocked as Jim had felt earlier. " _Verbal speech only? Oh dear… None of us realized… Forgive me. We thought… It appears we have much to learn about each other."_

Spock nodded. "One more thing, Ramicran, if you would. You mentioned that the Doctor was in poor shape when you found him. Could you elaborate?"

Ramicran was reeling, but she got back on track quickly. " _Yes, yes. Oh dear. He was found in the field on the perimeter of our territory. The McCoy had been attacked by some of the invaders. They used their lightning vines on him. Our healer recognized the marks straight away. He has suffered another sort of trauma we cannot identify. Mumidran is greatly distressed. He cries out in the night… All of the barracks weep with him. Such a gentle creature…"_ Ramicran stopped. " _Forgive me. Our pack has become very attached to him. The Councilwoman especially. This will be upsetting to her."_

Jim's blood ran cold. The whip he'd seen on Cadrit's belt. That had to be it. What other injuries McCoy had, he could only speculate. It didn't sound much like McCoy, what Ramicran was describing, unless something truly awful had happened to him.

It seemed Spock shared his concern. "You must take us to him. We will be able to treat his wounds. There is also some discussion to be had with your council."

Jim jumped back in. "Yes! Our Federation will bring charges against the colonists and seek reparations for your people. What they have done is abhorrent to us, and to their own leaders, I'm sure." Jim knew the Matrian Ambassador. Hanari would find this all unthinkable. If the colonists had really done all of this, well, he hoped she'd bring the hammer down hard.

_"Yes, yes. Follow me. I will take you there. It is far, but not too far for you, I believe."_

They headed off into the early morning. Hopefully, at the end of this road would be their Doctor. If not, neither Jim nor Spock would stop until he was found.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal!

Mumidran watched her charge sadly. The poor thing had hardly slept, and what he had managed was fitful. Now, he was in a sounder state, though she recognized the distress flickering across his strange face.

This one was not like the others. Most of the creatures looked the same to her, besides the three that had appeared two days ago. These were also mostly furless, but they did not have the patchy mange like the invaders did. That, and they had showed no ill will towards her people. Even their pet, though terribly slow, was kind to all he encountered.

Scout Conna had been monitoring the small creature since he and Scout Eliread had returned from their patrol. Conna assured her that this one was no threat, and that his emotions were easily readable. He may not be like them, but they could tell what he was feeling. Maybe he could be communicated with, to an extent, and even trained. He babbled frequently, like a child, so he might be very young still. There was just no way to tell with these creatures.

Obviously, he had been well cared for before. His owners kept him in warmer gear than Conna and Eliread had found him in. It was the invaders that treated him so harshly. Whatever they had put him through was having extreme repercussions. It was their way. Anything different from themselves was lesser, something to be conquered.

They had killed or driven off all of the scaly little Assistants. Mumidran and all of her people felt the loss keenly. The little reptiles had been able to do like their charge did with his strange appendages. The reptiles had helped them settle the cave, but the invaders had scared their herd far off into the mountains. It seemed like their kind scared the Assistants to the point of irrational panic. Their departure was mourned. They were the best pets and most faithful aides anyone had ever known.

Mumidran bent down and pulled the blanket back over her charge. She had tired to make him comfortable. Despite his simplicity, he had done so much for them. Perhaps, by his skill, his owners might be warriors in need of constant healing. Ramicran would learn shortly. She had been instructed to make contact. Their poor pet was only getting worse. He needed someone more familiar with his little ways than they were.

And they hadn't failed for lack of trying. Whenever Conna could, he spent time with their little friend to determine his emotional state. A lot was going on in that small mind, and Mumidran wanted to know if anything changed. Conna became attached, learning more every day. He'd even named their charge. Mumidran found that 'Blue', although simple, was fitting.

Steps in the hall. Mumidran turned to find Hilar in the entryway. His thoughts were somber, as they often were around his patient. He was a skilled healer, but whatever the invaders had done to Blue was beyond his ability to fix. He simply didn't know enough about the little one. And it galled him.

_"Hilar."_

_"Mumidran."_ He strode forward and stood next to her. After the most recent attack, they had both come to see things in a different light. The invaders were growing too strong. They had too many hostages. Mumidran had been considering withdrawing everyone to the mountains after the Assistants. Perhaps they could survive the heights together, as their ancestors had in the past.

" _He hasn't stirred for a while now. I was going to check your ward. Did you wish to examine him?"_

Hilar projected a somber sort of resignation. _"I have just completed my round. Most of the cases are improving. Some substantially. It makes me curious as to his life. What does one so small see of war to be able to work through dozens of our injured like he did?"_

_"Ramicran believes his owners are warlords."_

Hilar snorted. " _I would not doubt it. They are much like the invaders. Perhaps they are allies."_

Mumidran projected her disagreement. " _Surely not. They cannot be so cruel and raise one so kind. Do you see how he plays with the young ones? Icheleus does not approve, but Conna assures me he feels only affection towards us."_

" _I do not believe his owners to be so innocent. After all, they consort with the invaders. For all we know, he was given to them, perhaps against his will. And if it is as you say, then what troubles him so? An injury like that is no reason to toss around this much."_

Hilar sounded irritated, but Mumidran knew it was only to hide his concern. She answered him as best she could. _"He is afraid. Conna has told me so, and I have felt it on more than one occasion. I can not tell if he fears us, or the invaders, or both."_

Pausing, Mumidran gave her little Blue another sidelong glance. Hilar and Ramicran might be right. The invaders saw him as another tool to be used. Perhaps he was like the Assistants had been, uncooperative in the face of oppression, or somehow repulsive to the strange conquerors. Why else should they do such horrible things to him?

" _I will let him sleep._ " Hilar decided at last. " _If he is in further distress, let me-"_

The healer didn't get to finish. They both heard the pounding in the corridor and turned long before Scout Conna made his appearance. Despite his age, the Scout was skilled in reading situations and communicating his thoughts efficiently. Mumidran knew something was wrong when she felt the surge of worry hit the chamber. Conna had more control than this.

" _Ramicran is returning. Scout Eliread detected her and returned as fast as he was able."_

Mumidran cocked her head. _"Then what alarms you?_ "

Conna was panting hard. He had hurried. " _She returns with Blue's owners. Eliread sensed malice."_

" _Malice?"_ That was a very specific emotion. " _Was he certain?"_

Conna conveyed uncertainty. " _Eliread got a look at them. The golden one looked angry, while the other one seemed more passive, but they both carried weapons. Not the lightning vines, but Eliread said they were the weapons of their kind."_

" _They're coming for him."_ Hilar turned to check on Blue. Still sleeping soundly. _"They must have deceived Ramicran. Perhaps she mentioned his wounded state and they offered assistance."_

Mumidran cut in. _"We may be too hasty about this. It may very well be a measure of caution for their kind. As we travel in pairs, maybe they take their weapons in case of a dire situation. They may even be preparing to fend off the invaders if they impede their progress."_

Hilar pulled a face and trotted over to the corner. He took the large sack in his teeth and brought it forward. _"I do not think it is worth the risk. Mumidran, you should take him. We will take custody of his owners and have Conna investigate them. They won't be able to lie."_

Mumidran considered it. This would tell them for sure whether or not Blue's owners meant them well. Conna wasn't easily fooled, and when motivated, he was a force to be reckoned with. And if they were trouble, Mumidran could see an opening. The intruders might be willing to negotiate if valuable hostages were taken. That, and a small part of her wanted justice for Blue. He had been badly used, like so many of their own, but she was able to protect him now. Unlike the others, he might have a chance.

" _Help me with the bag. He will not like it."_ It was the best option they had at the moment. The incoming party was armed, and it would be unwise to take them at their word after everything they had seen. No, these odd creatures could not be trusted, especially not with weapons.

Hilar adjusted his hold and Mumidran grabbed the other side of the opening. _"Conna, do you think you can handle him?"_ Hilar was eyeing the young scout. This could be tricky.

_"I will be quick. Councilwoman, I would advise using the third exit. If this is a trap, it will be the route most hidden from outside eyes."_ Conna was thinking much further ahead. The newcomers may very well be trying something.

_"Good plan. Hilar, will you accompany me?"_ She asked this more out of courtesy than of genuine desire for more assistance on this mission.

Hilar decided no. " _Icheleus will want to know the situation. He is out on a patrol, but he will also disagree with the decision to take Blue when he gets back. I will have to explain our motives. Besides, I have patients to be tended to!"_

Mumidran could see right through him, but she did not make a comment. Together, they opened the mouth of the sack and waited. Conna took his position behind Blue and paused. For a moment, Mumidran was worried he'd sensed something, but Conna pounced. Blue was awake in an instant. She was sure they all felt equally guilty when Conna shoved him inside the bag with his snout, and possibly more so when she and Hilar closed the top.

Mumidran repositioned herself and gathered the top portion of the sack in her teeth. It was held closed and secure. Blue's panic was palpable, but this had to be done. It was the only way to be sure of his safety.

_"Go."_ Hilar turned and nosed Conna towards the door. The young scout kept looking over his shoulder at the wriggling bag. He might be feeling the guilt keenest of all.

_"Do not go easy on them, Conna. If they are hiding anything…"_ She didn't need to finish. Conna knew his duty. Eliread had trained him very well.

The bag swung and hit her leg gently. Blue was going to hurt himself if he kept this up. All the more reason for her to move quickly. The sooner she was able to let him out, the easier it would be to calm him back down. The little guy spooked easily. Hopefully he would quiet down before they got out of the cave system.

She took off down the back corridor. The newcomers shouldn't be too much trouble. Icheleus had been strict with training, but their troops had shown improvement for it. That, and there were only two creatures against their entire force. There would be no escaping that.

Mumidran found the right corridor and sped off.

* * *

When the three of them burst through the cave entrance, they had not expected such a large welcoming party. The cavern was crowded with all shapes and sizes of canines. Kirk noticed the bandages immediately. McCoy's handiwork. He couldn't help but wonder if the dogs had sustained these injuries last night, during the advisory. This also meant that the Matrians were in possession of powerful weaponry. They'd have to be more careful from here on out.

Ramicran's wagging tailed slowed. She scanned the crowd and turned back to Spock so she could translate. After a moment, Spock passed the message onto the Captain.

"They are… concerned, and with due cause. It seems as if we are not trusted here. Part of that is because we arrived armed."

Kirk frowned. "Can't you tell them that it's protocol? And why else wouldn't they trust us?"

Spock passed the message on to Ramicran and they both waited for the pack's response. Before the message could be passed along, a smaller dog pushed his way through the crowd. He emerged from the ranks and strode up to Ramicran.

"Captain." Spock kept his eyes on the new arrival. "This one is here to question us. He is acting on behalf of Councilwoman Mumidran and his friend Blue… I can only assume that is Doctor McCoy. It seems that they think we have harmed him previously, or that we handed him over to the Matrians where harm befell him."

This was madness. This entire ordeal was insane. "Tell him we're Bones' friends. Are they listening to you?"

Spock, with Ramicran's assistance, engaged in a mind meld with the newcomer. With his free hand, he beckoned Jim to join the conference. This being his second meld today, Jim was ready when another two sets of thoughts joined his own.

"Captain, this is Scout Conna, one of their intelligence agents. He is a skilled telepath, and a friend to Doctor McCoy."

Jim's eyebrows shot up. "You are? How is he? Ramicran said he was in bad shape."

He could feel that peculiar wave of emotions roll out to him. Perhaps it wasn't so unusual to their species. After all, if they weren't touch telepaths, then they would have to broadcast things in a different manner than humans. Different from Vulcans, too.

" _Firstly, I would like to offer my apologies. Ramicran and Commander Spock have made the situation clear. We have made a grievous error regarding your friend. I-"_ Conna stopped broadcasting immediately, and something new flickered in over the link. Panic? Worry? It was a sudden realization that you could feel.

" _We must go at once and tell Mumidran. She has run away with him on account of your presence. We believed you to be a threat, and set our plans accordingly. Forgive me, none of us realized…"_

Spock took the reins on this one. He released Jim from the meld and focused on Conna. After only a moment, they broke the meld. Conna turned and sped off down the tunnel.

"Quickly, Captain." Spock indicated that they should follow, despite the fact that neither of them could keep up with the big dog. The others were moving out of the way, and some even lined up next to them in order to act as escorts. "He will meet us with McCoy and the Councilwoman further down the tunnel."

They hurried after the scout. Jim couldn't help examining the interesting features in the cave, such as stolen supplies, native plants, and these odd mineral deposits, but his thoughts kept going back to Bones. They were so close. The fact that they'd sent their leader away with the doctor said a lot about their feelings on humanoids. Sending a powerful telepath to meet them sent mixed signals as well. Was the scout there to determine something about them? To read their minds?

There was so much more to this situation than he had previously thought. First with the Matrians' behavior, and all of this business with the dogs, now a far more convoluted scheme than Jim cared for. He wanted Bones back, blast it all, and he wanted him back _now._

Eventually, they came across a big room full of those Matrian baskets. All of the dogs stopped here, so Jim and Spock came to a halt as well. After a little huddled conference, one of the dogs headed back the way they'd come from. Must have a message to deliver. By all appearances, they were to wait. No one else in the party did anything to indicate otherwise.

It wasn't too long before the wayward dog returned with another. This dog seemed a touch older than average, not ancient, but not a puppy either. Jim could see the intelligence in their eyes now that he was looking for it. This seemed like a wiser dog than most.

He stared at the pair of them for a long while before approaching. It seemed like he was willing, yet also somewhat wary, to communicate with them. Spock held out his hand slowly, as an invitation instead of a command. He was playing off the information they'd been given. These dogs were used to Matrian oppression. Spock was setting the tone of first contact, and he was doing it with the utmost tact.

Jim stood by while the meld was initiated. He frowned, realizing something Ramicran had said earlier. The dogs did have some sort of verbal language, so there was a possibility that they could communicate via the universal translator, provided they could get an accurate sample and calibrate the thing correctly. He was going to mention this to Spock, but his First Officer was in the middle of a conversation.

Once, he saw Spock's eyebrows hit the roof. The recovery was quick, but whatever this dog had to say was surprising. Jim watched the rest of the exchange carefully, trying to pick up on the signals he could see instead of speculating on what he couldn't hear. There was a mutual respect here. The dog decided to open up at least a little to Spock, based on his body language. What Jim knew of dogs' body language at least.

Spock finally broke off the meld. When he turned to Jim, there was the barest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Captain, it may interest you to know that I have just spoken to one of the good Doctor's colleagues."

This was just par for the course at this point. Jim didn't even question it. "Oh? Did he have something interesting to say, or were you two swapping stories?"

Spock's face was neutral. "He has attempted to explain the situation from the pack's point of view. Apparently, they once lived mutualistically with a species of reptile that had similar dexterity to that of humanoids. Although they were only animals, these reptiles were able to perform a broad variety of tasks if properly trained and motivated."

"So that's it." Jim was wondering how the dogs had been able to overlook McCoy's considerable knowledge of medicine. Heck, he'd even exhibited it for the whole pack to see. "They're used to having a spare set of hands. He wasn't doing anything _new_ , just something they couldn't do themselves."

Spock inclined his head. "Precisely, Captain. The healer, Hilar, as he is called, attempted to explain more than we had heard previously. He was also able to give me an account of the Doctor's… injuries."

This got Jim's attention in earnest. He'd heard about trauma and vine lightning and all sorts of vague indications of disaster, but nothing concrete. This was the head physician he was facing now. If anyone other than the Doctor himself could give an account, it would be this Hilar.

"And?"

Spock took a breath. "It follows that the lightning vines we have heard about are in fact the Matrians' weaponry."

"The cat-o'-nine-tails, Spock?"

"Indeed. According to Hilar, they have an added feature. The barbs on the end are metal, and can conduct an electric pulse. I believe the closest equivalent would be an old Earth-style taser gun, or perhaps and Andorian stunning spear."

Jim couldn't fight the angry shudder that ran from his neck to his toes. They'd used one of those on Bones, and for what? What reason did they have to torture him and dump him out in the middle of nowhere? None that he would accept.

"Ramicran mentioned something else. What's that secondary thing she kept talking about? With the nightmares, I mean."

Spock raised one eyebrow and turned back to Hilar. They reconnected the meld. When Spock broke off a second time, he did not look as confident. "Hilar does not know what could have caused the Doctor's reaction. Nor can I discern what it might be with so little evidence. We will have to get a full report when he returns."

The dogs on the periphery had been examining them for some time, but they began to grow bolder when Spock melded with Hilar. Apparently, the healer had some degree of sway over the rest of the pack, and whatever he did, they would do also. Most who approached simply wished to examine them. There was a considerable sized group surrounding Spock, although Jim got his share of the visitors as well.

He couldn't meld with any of them, but they seemed to get the picture. All of these dogs eagerly accepted a pat on the head, or a scratch behind the ears. _Bones must've taught them. I guess whenever they figured out he didn't meld, they went for the next best thing._ Jim imagined that Bones, with his gentle ways, would have puppies lined up around the block to visit with him. The Doctor certainly had a way with kids. Dogs weren't all that different, right?

Spock was giving him The Eyebrow, but Jim just smiled and kept petting dogs. He hoped Spock would explain this unusual Earth practice for him. It would sound a lot more logical than it was, coming from a Vulcan.

Suddenly, every canine head in the room turned. Jim thought it was unnerving, until he realized there was probably a telepathic cue prompting them to reinterpret a scene from a classic horror movie. He felt a little better.

It was Conna. The scout came bounding back in, wagging his tail and overall just being a very big puppy. That meant… It did! Jim was torn between outrage and hysteria when a regal looking dog- he could only assume it was the Councilwoman- entered with a thrashing burlap sack in her teeth. It had to be.

"Bones!" Jim shouted and pushed his way through the crowd. He saw the bag freeze for a moment before the muffled " _Jim?"_ reached his ears. Spock joined him in the hurry and they arrived in front of the Councilwoman in moments.

She had the presence of mind to set the sack down. Jim slid to a halt just as the tousled head poked out of the opening. The fabric fell away, and there was Bones, looking exhausted. Jim saw the faded white fabric of the sling, took in the rumpled state of his friend's clothes, the desperate way he looked up- almost too relieved to believe Jim was _real._

That was when he forgot everything and pulled Bones in. It had been too long. Jim had spent too long not knowing what had happened, maybe what would _become of_ his friend. Now, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach departed. The thought that Bones could be lying dead out there no longer hung over his head. Jim felt rather than saw Spock join them. He seemed just as relieved to find the Doctor whole.

"Jim," Bones' one good arm was holding on tight. He had something to say, but he was going to do it within the safety of his friend's embrace. "Spock, I thought they'd got you too."

Spock moved in towards the Doctor's side. He set a hand on one of Bones' shoulders reassuringly, while the other slipped around to his tricorder. Spock had the right idea.

"Nobody got us, Bones. We're fine. We were more worried about you." Jim glanced at Spock's tricorder. The scan was still going, nothing to see here. "You don't have to worry anymore. You're safe. Scotty will be here soon, and we'll get you back to the ship in no time at all." He turned his head all the way towards Spock to make room for more of McCoy. It was freezing in this cave system, and it was only decent that he made sure his CMO wasn't freezing to death. That was it. That was exactly what he was doing.

"Jim." Uh-oh. The Captain looked up. That was Spock's serious voice.

"Yes, Spock?"

His First Officer turned the tricorder around so Jim could see. He'd seen the sling already. He knew the arm was bad for Bones to tie it up, but the readings here reminded him that those weapons were designed for creatures a whole lot bigger than his CMO. Jim was careful to avoid the arm when he tightened his grip on McCoy. Whoever was responsible for this would answer. Whether it was to the Federation or to his own bare hands, Jim was still up in the air about it.

It seemed like all of this was becoming a little too much for the Doctor. McCoy started pulling back and Jim let him go. He wanted to know details. He wanted names and descriptions.

"How in the world did you two find me?" Bones looked from Jim to Spock, and back to Jim again. He was at a loss for how they'd done it. "Did you pick me up on the tricorder? Did one of these puppy dogs come get you?"

Jim smiled and put his hands on the Doctor's shoulders. "Let's just say we've met some very interesting friends of yours, Bones. We've got a lot to discuss, but first I think we need to get you taken care of. All this," he gestured to the arm, "looks pretty bad, and I also want a full report on what happened."

The Doctor's smile wavered a little, but he agreed. "Sure thing, Jim. Ask ol' Rin Tin Tin over there. He can show you where the bandages are. Old coot's a pretty fine doctor. My regards to whoever trained him."

He didn't know. Jim wasn't too surprised, but Bones seemed to have no idea that this was his colleague, in a very real sense. "Spock? Would you mind?" He thought it would be best to play this safe. Bones looked to be in a state, and Jim didn't want to upset him. McCoy liked to go on about how he'd taken the very same classes as they had, and how he'd trained at the Academy, same as them, but deep down Jim knew Bones was made of softer stuff. Not weaker stuff, but more compassionate, more tenderhearted things than your average Starfleet officer. And for this, they would protect him with their lives.

Spock stood and went to meld with Hilar, or as Bones called him 'Rin Tin Tin'. Jim couldn't keep the smile from his lips as he grabbed the edge of the burlap sack and draped the thing over McCoy's shoulders.

"Did you name all of them, Bones? Which one's Spot? Do you have a Toto?"

"No, but Lady Rev dragged me in here, and it looks like Lassie's back from fishing little Timmy out of the well."

He pointed at Ramicran before searching the rest of the crowd and spotting Conna. McCoy smiled, at it looked to Jim like they were friends. The impression had formed since they'd met the scout in the tunnel. He seemed like an honest type, young, but someone who McCoy could take a shine to. Jim wondered what it would be like if they could find a way to communicate through the Universal Translator. He'd give a lot to be a fly on the wall during that first conversation.

Conna noticed he was being watched and padded over to the pair of them. Bones held out his good hand, and the scout bent over to get his ears scratched. No wonder they all liked him so much. It seemed that he was spoiling these dogs.

"Who's this?"

"Chance."

"Alright."

"I watched a lot of animal movies as a kid, Jim."

"I'm not saying anything, Bones."

* * *

Spock had a good many conversations while Jim tended to Doctor McCoy. He was Vulcan, but he knew it would be illogical to deny that all of these mind melds were draining. The Trievans, as he'd taken to calling them since they weren't technically dogs, were very understanding. Most of them had learned to communicate somewhat with McCoy, and they were employing several of these tactics where a mind meld wasn't strictly necessary.

Hilar, whom the Doctor called 'Rin Tin Tin', came up to him with a large blanket. Spock was more tolerant of the chill than he found his human colleagues to be. He could see McCoy huddled under the burlap sack, and the Captain was trying hard not to shiver. Spock gestured to the blanket and then to the two humans. Hilar picked up on their discomfort very quickly and delivered. But, the healer wasn't done. He grabbed another blanket for Spock. It seemed like Hilar had that same stubborn streak as McCoy. Never one to ignore social protocol or good manners, Spock took the blanket.

He followed Hilar into the next chamber. It seemed as if there were a lot of things they needed to learn about the Trievans. He and the Captain had decided not to return to the colony, as it would be too dangerous for both them and the Doctor. Whoever had attacked him was still there. They wouldn't risk him for anything.

The Trievans were organized. Now that Spock was looking, he could see the divisions between supplies. Usable and unusable items had been separated from each other, and those two categories were broken down into subcategories based on the things the Trievans would use them for. He could see an adjustment in the location of fabrics. Spock theorized that it had to do with the recent influx of injuries. Doctor McCoy had done well, though Spock suspected the Trievans initiated a lot of the organization of late. They seemed to be a very capable race.

It wasn't long before Hilar found what he was looking for. The healer propped himself up on the edge of a basket and looked inside. After a moment, he came up empty. It seemed that whatever should have been inside was missing. Spock strode over to get a look inside. The basket was empty, save for a few leaves stuck down in the corners. Leaves. He wondered what purpose they could serve. After all, if the Trievans weren't carnivores, then they had a plentiful supply of fruit. The Doctor had gladly shown them his collection. Apparently, his cooperation could be bought… But, Spock abandoned that train of thought in favor of speculation about the leaves.

"Perhaps you require more of them?" Spock said this more to himself than to Hilar, but the healer took notice. He inclined his head forward. Spock supposed this was a more complex issue than he realized. This may be worth another meld.

" _This is unusual, how your species communicates. In this manner, I mean. When the invaders do it, well, it is much more threatening."_

Spock had not seen the Matrians engage in any melds up until this point. It begged the question. "How so?"

" _They connect as if they control you. When your McCoy reaches out, he does so in the motion of the invaders. We thought he wished to communicate, but his touch served another purpose."_ There was a hint of dry humor in the healer's thoughts. " _This is part of why we supposed he wasn't sentient. He only wished to… What is it you call that?"_

Spock raised an eyebrow. "The humans call it 'petting', and they typically only engage in this activity with animals. Your appearance to Earth's canines and the Matrians' deception lead the Doctor to believe you were not sentient either, and that you too would enjoy 'a scratch behind the ears'."

He got the distinct impression that Hilar _did_ enjoy it. The healer didn't project anything to that effect, but Spock was better at reading people than he let on. Even if these people were canines.

" _An Earth custom. At first, Scout Conna thought he was just being stubborn. Then, since he couldn't detect telepathic ability… You know the rest. It's all embarrassing, now that you look at it."_ Hilar wagged his tail softly. " _All of us, grown, experienced, thinking he was an animal because he didn't think and speak like us. How small minded."_

"I do not believe it is such a large mistake. There are first contacts- the initial meeting of species- that have gone far worse."

Hilar cocked his head to one side. He wished for Spock to continue.

"Indeed, our ship has encountered several societies that were not only misunderstanding, but openly hostile. Your species and the Matrians may serve as an example, I expect."

Huffing, Hilar projected bitter annoyance. " _We were fools, but it is not that simple. I was not there at the initial meeting, but all impressions concluded that these Matrians of yours were benevolent travelers, wishing nothing more than to have peaceful relations with our species. They learned of our ways and customs and then they revealed their true intentions."_

It seemed to be a sensitive subject. Spock listened patiently while Hilar explained how the Matrians had pulled one over on everyone.

" _First, they found a way to chase off the Assistants. You may have heard of our scaly little friends, who we trained and kept as pets. Without their dexterity, we were devastated. Some of ours proposed to enlist the help of the newcomers."_ Spock could feel a deep sadness, and something else. Regret? _"You can see how well that worked out for us."_

So, the Matrians had created a situation where the Trievans would need them, and then pressed their advantage. "I can't explain properly how abhorrent this is to our Federation. What the colonists have done is immoral, and goes against every law and principle on which our society was founded. The Captain could explain it in better terms, but I assure you that we will do everything in our power to see that justice is done for you and your people."

Hilar's emotions fluxuated. It was almost as if he didn't want to believe. Spock saw the healer's eyes flick back to the main chamber, where McCoy was showing the Captain the places where the Trievans like to be scratched. All parties involved were enjoying themselves.

"It is often a mistake to judge the character of the many by the actions of the few."

Hilar looked at him sharply. Spock's expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something there behind his eyes. A fond memory? Understanding?

" _If it is as you say, I believe my people will be eager to meet the rest of your Federation. Now…"_ Hilar turned and looked at the box. " _I am in need of your assistance."_


	6. Chapter 6

Jim had fought tooth and nail, but in the end, McCoy had guilted them into letting him come along.

Spock had to let Jim know somehow that Hilar had asked him to come help gather leaves. There was no other way than to let McCoy in on the fact that the Trievans were sentient. They had been meaning to keep it from him until the _Enterprise_ returned, but there was no getting around it.

McCoy had reacted 'spectacularly', in Jim's opinion. The Doctor had frozen where he sat, his hand halfway between Conna's ears. He took a long, slow look at the canine sitting next to him, and then back to Spock.

"Go ahead. Pull the other one."

When he had been assured that, yes, the Trievans were sentient, McCoy had gone very red. He'd adamantly refused a mind meld, citing that this was 'embarrassing enough without all of that'. Though, he'd immediately asked everyone's names. He was glad to know that he could call Hilar something a little more dignified, now that he knew that this was his colleague. The Trievans who had engaged in mind melds also recognized it when McCoy said their true names, since Spock's thoughts had given them a sample of human speech. Conna responded best to this. The scout was insistent on pursuing this friendship, now that they both understood each other a little better.

It was the three of them together again, along with Hilar, Conna, and his mentor Eliread. The older dog was there for Security purposes more than anything else if Hilar's description was understood. They weren't going very far, but the task ahead was too difficult for the Trievans themselves.

Hilar had outlined a simple plan: Spock and Jim would go and collect the leaves that the pack had been unable to reach on their own. The healer had gone on to explain that the Assistants had once performed this task for them, and their supply had been rapidly dwindling since the colonists arrived. In the last confrontation, they had used the rest of their supply. Hilar elaborated that they would need some more for the injured they had in the caves, as well as for McCoy.

The Doctor agreed. "You should've seen how they responded to that stuff. I'd like to take a look and see what's in those things, once we get back to the ship. It didn't work as well on me as it did on their wounded, but I noticed an improvement between every application. They can't touch a dermal regenerator, but this stuff makes one heck of an anti-inflammatory."

Jim and Spock were forced to listen- at length- to McCoy's proposed plan of study. The Doctor walked at Conna's side and absentmindedly stroked the scout's fur while he went on and on about the 'veritable goldmine of medicinal herbs' this planet might have. Neither of the other Trievans batted an eye. Jim figured this must've been 'situation normal' since they'd run across McCoy two nights ago.

Hilar trotted away from the rest of the group and looked up one of the trees. His tail wagged back and forth, and they got the impression that this was it. Indeed, it appeared to be the tree. The branches were high off the ground. It stood to reason that the Trievans wouldn't be able to get the leaves themselves. Not fresh ones, and not without somehow bringing the tree down.

"Captain, I can lift you up to one of the lower branches. From there, you can assist me into the tree."

Spock indicated a lower hanging branch where they might be able to make this work. Jim looked up at it, and then surveyed the rest of the tree. All in all, this was a feasible plan.

"Be careful, you two." McCoy called out from Conna's side. "I don't want to have to patch up any more injuries today."

Jim smiled back at him. "Don't worry, Bones. Careful is my middle name."

"If you fall outta that tree, Tiberius, I swear I'm not letting you out of Sickbay for a month."

"Point taken, Bones. Spock? Are you ready?"

They took up a position under the branch and Spock made a cradle with his hands. Jim took a slight running start, and rocketed up toward his target. It was a thick branch, not something easy to wrap his hands around, but he got a good enough grip to pull himself up. Then, it was a simple matter of leaning far enough over for Spock to jump up and grab his hand. Vulcans were a lot more agile than they looked. Jim half expected a comment on Vulcan gracefulness, but Spock kept quiet.

He followed Spock's lead, climbing further up the tree than he thought they'd need to.

"What's all this about? Are the leaves at the bottom of the tree different?"

Spock hoisted himself up over another thick branch. "Indeed, Captain. Hilar explained to me the difference briefly. Though abundant, the young leaves that can be used for medicine can only be found at a certain height on the tree. I have a theory about their chemical makeup as a response to the planet's sunlight, but this will require further study."

Jim simply hummed in agreement and found another foothold. The climb was going quickly, and it wasn't too much longer when Jim noticed the difference in the leaves. He could actually see it now. The new leaves were greener, darker, and more fragrant than those lower down on the tree. He was relieved that the branches hadn't thinned out considerably at this height. This would make it easier to hold their balance while collecting.

"Did you bring a bag, Spock?"

His question was met with dead silence. No, Spock hadn't brought a bag.

"Might I suggest that we consider an… alternate means of transporting our cargo?"

"I'm all for stuffing them in our shirts if you are, Mister Spock."

And so they did. Jim found that his undershirt was tight enough to keep the leaves from falling out the bottom. Spock seemed to be having a lot more trouble, but the more leaves they tried to carry, the better it was. Soon, they had bulging shirts and Jim was on the verge of hysteria. He'd never imagine Spock in the shape of a fire hydrant, but that was what his First Officer looked like. There was one thick protrusion of leaves under his shirt, but the rest looked like it usually did.

"About ready, Spock?"

"Indeed, Captain. I believe we should return to the ground before Doctor McCoy worries about us any further."

It took Jim a second, but he could hear the shouting faintly over the wind. He stopped listening after 'fool-headed, reckless monkeys flirting with death' and started making his way back down.

McCoy was waiting for them at the bottom of the tree. He came forward with the burlap sack as soon as Jim and Spock touched the ground. "Eliread brought this with him. Pretty smart, ain't it? I'd forgotten all about something to carry these things in."

Jim, stomach bulging with leaves, took the sack from the Doctor's hands. He and Spock emptied their loads inside and started the process over for a second helping. From Hilar's description, Spock estimated they would need to make two more trips to meet the desired quota.

They reached the heights again, and the pair began their work once more. Spock's ears picked up McCoy's shouting first, and they finished off their loads before heading back down to drop them off. Jim made the trip carefully. He found that the faster he went, the more likely he was to slip and lose some of his leaves. From both his officers' estimations, this was valuable cargo. He couldn't, in good conscience, let them go to waste.

The branches thinned out when they got very close to the ground. Jim could see Conna standing under their branch, stock-still and looking up at them expectantly. He didn't see McCoy or the others anywhere around. That was odd.

Dropping down from the lowest branch, Jim looked around the clearing. There wasn't a dog or a doctor in sight. Spock followed him close behind. Conna kept his distance. He had started staring at the ground. Jim didn't know what to think.

"What do you make of it? Do you think they found something to look at?" He took a step toward Conna and the bag of leaves. "I hope they didn't wander very far off."

"Not _too_ far, Captain."

Jim spun around, already reaching for his phaser. He stopped in his tracks. Minister Dalarian, along with three other Matrians, emerged from the thicket. She was carrying one of those electric whips on her belt, as were the rest of her people. Jim's original question was answered quickly when the rest of his party reappeared. Hilar and Eliread were being led between two of Dalarian's agents. The third, Jim recognized as Cadrit. The Chief of Security kept a tight hold on his prisoner, one hand covering McCoy's mouth, the other pinning the Doctor's arms to his sides.

It was a trap.

Jim aborted the grab for his phaser and clenched his fists. So, they'd threatened Conna with the other captives. Probably told him to wait. Something Cadrit had cooked up, he supposed. Jim scowled. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Cadrit had been behind the whole thing. And it stood to reason that he and his people enforced the subjugation of the Trievans too. Dalarian, though…

_"You have a suitable plan. Carry it out."_

_"Yes, Minister. It will be taken care of."_

His jaw clenched so hard he heard something crack. "You!" Jim was beyond angry. He broiled, wanting nothing more than to take all of the malice building up inside him and dole it out on the Matrians with his bare hands. Jim hadn't expected this. But now that he thought about it, this made some kind of sense. Bones' abduction would've been easy as an inside job, and who better to drug his own wine than the Minister herself? She probably even set up Spock's trip to the power plant. They'd cleared the road for Cadrit and his men to charge in and have their way.

Spock, though more collected, was burning as well. His first thought had been to survey the Doctor to see if he had been injured. It looked as if McCoy had been unharmed, but something had caused Spock to pause. The Doctor's eyes were wide and panicked. He stood stock-still in his captor's grip, but Spock could detect a tremor working through his frame. McCoy wasn't simply afraid. He was _terrified._ Based on the nature of the trap and the sly smirk on Dalarian's face, Spock decided there might be a very good reason for it.

"Release them!" Jim was keeping it together, barely. He looked about a second away from charging the party and taking them on singlehandedly. Spock put a hand on his Captain's arm, but Jim wasn't done. "You've gone far enough, Dalarian. I will not let you hurt them any more! Does your government know, _Minister_?" He spat the word with contempt. "Do they know about the atrocities committed here? The blatant lies and total disregard for sentient life? Not to mention the fact that you ordered an attack on a Starfleet officer! But I suppose that falls right in with your pattern of behavior. What's hospitality to you? Shake hands, then drive the knife in as soon as they turn?"

At this, the Minister smirked and shifted her weight to one leg. She either had the bravado of an expert, or not an ounce of shame.

"Captain Kirk, you've forgotten the most important part. You've overlooked the fact that I am running the most successful Matrian colony in our entire history of planetary settlement. Doesn't that count for anything? It's not an easy job, but it does have its rewards. I'm given the very best from Matrio, and the pay isn't bad either."

Jim looked ready to combust. Spock intervened. "And your government has no idea what you are actually doing in this colony, do they Minister?"

Unable to resist, Jim cut back in. "Yes, Dalarian, why don't you tell us what happened? What happened to the spirit of exploration? It must've been inconvenient for you. A little thing like that, standing in the way of your ill-gotten gains! I'm surprised no one found out sooner!"

She eyed Spock carefully, ignoring Jim's tirade. "Not at all. I highly doubt they'd approve of my methods." Dalarian flicked her gaze toward Bones and continued. "But, you Starfleet men are not so different with your photon torpedoes and your petty squabbles with the Klingons. You parade around the Neutral Zone just daring someone to attack so you can what? Claim to be in the right and steal some experimental technology? Grab an outpost for yourselves? What is the saying? 'You can not make breakfast without breaking a few eggs'?"

If looks could kill… Jim was about ready to rush forward and take them all on. Spock's hand was the only thing keeping him back. Dalarian was a snake, and her people looked to be just as unscrupulous. Jim had seen McCoy drugged, grieving, and drunk out of his mind. Very few times had he seen such unchecked horror on his friend's face. Something about the war party terrified him. Jim remembered those same eyes looking up at him from the burlap sack. He remembered Ramicran's words as she told them about how they'd found McCoy, the concern in every mind he'd shared today. Jim recalled McCoy's reticence to meld and it all fell into place.

"My God, Spock, they've done it to him again."

It was out in the open now, and McCoy's stifled sob was all the proof he needed. He turned to his First Officer. Rage welled up in those brown eyes, and he knew Spock had made the connection.

"Minister." Jim was surprised when Spock spoke. "Minister, the crime you have committed against Doctor McCoy alone is punishable by death on my home world. Not to mention the atrocities committed against the Trievans, an entire people. It is unimaginable, the violations inflicted on such a multitude. I assure you, you stand no chance in a Federation court."

Dalarian was taken aback, but she recovered quickly. "Is that a threat, Commander?"

Spock shook his head. "Not a threat. I was simply trying to inform you about the severity of your actions. That, and I can assure you that you will not escape."

"Escape? I'm holding all of the cards here, Commander. Cadrit." Dalarian snapped. "You have the Doctor. Remind Captain Kirk and Commander Spock of the stakes they're bluffing for."

Jim's blood froze in his veins, but he couldn't have been prepared for what Cadrit did next.

"No."

Dalarian's smile, just recently plastered back on, fell. She spun around and faced her Head of Security.

"What did you say?"

Cadrit looked unnerved. Jim hadn't been paying attention, but it looked like Spock's statement had gotten to him. Guilt welled up in his eyes. This was a man who had followed orders past his breaking point. Now, he was cracked and shattering quickly. "I said no! Have you thought about this? Where will it end? Will we be killing our own next?"

Dalarian's attention was locked in on Cadrit, but he still had McCoy in his grasp. Although it looked like his hold was loosening, Jim knew he would have to wait before trying anything.

"Our own will accept our word, Cadrit! They have accepted it so far! Why do you think we have enjoyed such peace?"

He broke. "Peace? You talk about peace, but what have you done? You have sent troops out night after night, killing the innocent! Most of those creatures left are either very young or very old. They have no way to defend themselves! And you expect nothing less than perfection. If so much as a child among our own suspected that they were intelligent, you would have me find the unfortunate creature and… I will have no more of it! I am done hurting for you, Dalarian! I am done killing for your comfort!"

He released McCoy, and everything happened at once.

Dalarian, blind with rage, unfurled the whip from her belt and prepared to lash out at Cadrit with all of her fury. The remaining two guards didn't know what to do, but there were two Trievans between them, and neither Matrian looked like they wanted to die today.

They stood their ground, until another pair of Trievans burst from the tree line. The two canines were large and fast, whipping through the underbrush out into the clearing. Jim supposed they must have been waiting in the shadows for a chance to strike. Now that there was an opening, one dove at Cadrit, and the other took on the guards. Jim and Spock responded at once, whipping out their phasers and firing. Jim took down Dalarian before finding himself at a loss. Spock had taken the opportunity to stun the other guards. One of the newcomers stood over them, while the other went after his own target.

Cadrit was kneeling in the grass, frozen. The first dog, taller than any that Jim had seen yet, had its teeth bared in the man's face. The huge dog was lean and muscular, with dark fur and an air of command like Mumidran had. Cadrit was riveted to the spot. But, he wasn't the only one.

McCoy was on the ground. The doctor had been thrown when Cadrit was toppled. Now, he was curled up behind the dog's massive legs. You wouldn't be able to touch McCoy without getting past the giant.

"I am done." Cadrit raised his hands in surrender. "Do with me as you will, but I won't take part in Dalarian's crimes any longer."

Jim lowered his phaser and slipped it back into the holster on his belt. The newcomers weren't from the caves. He hadn't seen them before, but apparently Hilar and the others recognized them. McCoy's colleague ran to him straight away. Hilar grabbed onto the doctor's shirt and pulled him away from the giant.

Now that McCoy was clear, Jim started running forward. That got a reaction. The huge dog put himself between the Captain and Hilar before snarling. Jim stopped dead. Spock had a different idea.

"Hilar."

The healer's head poked out from behind the wall of fur and teeth. After a moment, the giant stood down, but he didn't relax. Jim and Spock hadn't earned his trust, but they were free to move about the clearing. For now.

Spock arrived before Jim did and took stock of the situation. He took a seat next to McCoy, who was in the process of protecting his head with his arms. So tense was he, the he didn't even notice Spock at first. When the Doctor was finally able to relax, he became more aware of his surroundings. He let Spock help him up, but he wouldn't meet the Vulcan's eye. Perhaps it was embarrassing to be seen in such a state. Spock knew that pride, although an emotion, was something he struggled with as well.

"Leonard." That grabbed McCoy's attention immediately. "Are you injured?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, Spock. No more than I was a minute ago. Just a little… a little stunned is all. I'll be fine."

Spock nodded once and turned to his Captain. "If you would secure the prisoners, I will… assess Doctor McCoy's condition."

"What do you mean 'assess' you pointed-eared fraud? Did you get a medical degree in the last two days?"

That was all Jim needed to hear. "The safe ends of those whips should do nicely. I'll be right back. Bones, _behave._ "

"Oh, I'm bein'-have." He muttered as Jim left. And he was fine, mostly. McCoy'd been a little shaken up when the Matrians had jumped them. It wasn't so bad then. He'd been nabbed by invaders, rogue aliens, diplomats, you name it- but he was more scared for Jim and Spock. It wasn't until he'd heard Cadrit speak that his legs had turned to jello and his insides dissolved. Wasn't like he'd forget those voices. Those three had only been haunting his nightmares two nights running. Three? He didn't know anymore.

"Well, are you gonna 'assess' me, or can I do my own blasted job?" McCoy rubbed at his shoulder. He knew Spock and Jim had heard everything. They'd drawn all the right conclusions. It didn't make anything easier. Cadrit had still driven a hot poker through McCoy's mind. It might hurt a little less today, but it still hurt.

He'd recovered somewhat since the confrontation. Asta's sudden appearance, though terrifying, was reassuring. McCoy spared a glance at Hilar and Conna, who were talking to the big Security Chief. It looked like Doctor Dog wanted to some assessing of his own, but Asta was monopolizing his attention. He smiled. Seemed like the big guy cared about him after all.

When McCoy glanced back, Spock simply raised an eyebrow. He was giving McCoy _that look_ , the one that brokered no BS, and would tolerate no avoidance.

"Leonard. Are you well?"

McCoy sighed but didn't drop his gaze this time. "Mostly, Spock. You don't just 'get over' something like that but… Mostly." He ran his free hand through his hair. Jim and Spock were safe and that was what had been worrying him so much these last few days. It was not knowing that killed him. Sure, his brainwaves were probably scrambled, but Spock was a finer radio tuner than anyone he knew. They could figure it out.

Jim chose this moment to return, a smug grin on his face and a coldness in his eyes. "They're secured. Spock, Bones, everything alright?"

"Peachy, Jim. It's all good here." McCoy rolled his eyes when Jim immediately went to Spock for a second opinion, but the hobgoblin actually backed him up.

"I believe the Doctor is well. Perhaps he is a bit shaken from the sudden turn of events, but not in worse condition."

"That's what I _said_ , Spock. Geez, for all that computerized brain of yours processes, you sure can't take a hint."

"What would you have me say, Doctor? My wording is more precise than your illogical colloquialisms, which you are so fond of inflicting on the rest of the crew."

"I'll show you an affliction, you green-blooded-"

"Gentlemen." Jim stepped between them and put a hand on McCoy's shoulder. "I think we've seen enough combat for today. What say you we escort our prisoners back to the cave while I try to get in touch with the ship? Scotty's due for arrival in what, six hours?"

"Four point two-seven-five, Captain."

"Even better! Let's get a move on."

* * *

McCoy picked at the end of the bandage. Nurse Chapel had done a spectacular job, as per usual, but he was still uncomfortable. Having only one usable hand made things difficult. Still, it was only temporary. Provided he stayed off duty for the next three days, he could return to light duty, and then regular duty after three more. His psychological evaluations had a little to do with this prolonged rest. Scotty and Uhura had sat on either side of him while he got the whole story out. They were almost entirely responsible for his ability to recount everything coherently.

Once regulations had been satisfied, McCoy had been released to his quarters. First things first, he'd taken a nap like no other. Only once did he bolt upright, wide-awake, but the familiar thrum of the engines set him at ease again. Jim and Spock had assured him that everything was in hand. They'd contacted the Matrian Ambassador straight away. Hanari had some… words to say about Dalarian and her operation, and the fastest ships on Matrio III were being sent with all haste.

The colonists had been utterly shocked by the revelation, but they had adapted to the news pretty well. It seemed like Spock's words were accepted at face value. Jim had described how the colonists immediately set to freeing the Trievan 'assistants' before opening communication fully. Councilwoman Mumidran was meeting with the highest-ranking Matrian official who had not been in on the plot. Sanitation Overseer Allere was doing admirably according to all reports.

McCoy was about to settle down to some tea- liberally sweetened with honey- when there was a knock on the door.

"Come." The Doctor shifted his own comforter around his shoulders before taking a sip of the tea. _Hot and sweet just like Grandma made._ He was surprised to see Uhura enter, but more surprised still to see the Councilwoman and Scout Conna following her.

"Afternoon, Doctor." Uhura gave him a cursory inspection before setting something down on the table. McCoy's eyebrows rose when he recognized a universal translator, the kind they usually kept on shuttles and the like.

"Does this mean I'm not gonna have to mind-meld to chat with these two?" Theoretically, it wasn't a terrible idea, but some things were too soon in coming to consider.

Uhura smiled. "Not unless you want to. I've been working with Mister Spock and Scout Conna here to calibrate the translator properly. We've tested it somewhat, but this will be the first proper conversation that it will run through. If you don't mind, Doctor," Uhura's expression softened a little, "I was going to stay and make sure the calibrations were right. I won't intrude, however, if you'd like-"

McCoy waved her off. "No, no, you're fine to stay. I dare say you'll find all this… amusing." Turning to his guests, the Doctor gestured to the room at large. "Make yourselves at home. Sit or stand wherever you'd like."

"Thank you."

McCoy sat up straighter. The voice _sounded_ human, but it was unmistakably Mumidran, as he came to know her now. Her mouth didn't move, but whatever sound she was making was getting picked up. It worked, and the Councilwoman lost none of her stately air in translation.

"You're quite welcome… Councilwoman…" McCoy cleared his throat. This was more awkward than he supposed it would be. Chance- _Conna_ seemed to sense the tension and did what he did best. The scout plodded over to McCoy's bed and faced the Doctor at about his own eye level.

"Permission to come aboard, Blue?"

McCoy almost snorted. "Permission granted." Conna wagged his tail happily before leaping onto the bed with the Doctor. Protocol safely out the window, the conversation could flow much more easily.

"Tell me more about 'Blue'. How'd all y'all come to agree on that one?"

Mumidran fielded this question, as Chance- _Conna, blast it, Conna_ \- ducked his head and seemed rather embarrassed.

"Scout Conna named you, and the rest of us deemed it… fitting…" Mumidran looked about as sheepish as a dog could. She quickly perked up again, restarting. "On the subject of names, I understand you named us as well. Would you elaborate? We, well, we find you- we find _your culture_ fascinating."

"Spock teach y'all that one?" McCoy mumbled. His hand gravitated towards Conna's fluffy ears. "Well, I uh, chose names that I felt were… um… appropriate based on your respective personalities. Scout Conna for instance, I called Chance. His partner- forgive me, we weren't well acquainted- I called Shadow. The names of a famous duo of… adventurers."

This seemed to appease Conna. He settled contentedly on McCoy's lap.

"Your Security Chief…?"

"Icheleus."

"Icheleus, yes, I called him Asta, after… A very famous do- _detective's aid_ , who helped solve a great many crimes."

Mumidran nodded, hanging on his every word.

"Lassie is a famous messenger, and your Ramicran fit the bill. Hilar I called Rin Tin Tin after a famous… search and rescue worker." It was getting harder and harder for him to keep cranking these out. Uhura was remarkably good at keeping a straight face, but McCoy could see her eyes crinkling more and more with every feeble explanation.

"And… me?"

McCoy licked his lips. "Lady Rev… Reveille, First Lady and Highest Ranking Member of the Corps, and the only bearer of the five silver diamonds." Uhura was about to crack. He kept up his best poker face through it all, however. Mumidran seemed impressed.

"These names were… thought out, I can see. We called you Blue more out of ease, for referring to you as 'him' or 'the little one' seemed… unfitting." The Trievans all seemed very upset about having treated him as a pet. "The others, they have referred to you as The Doctor and as McCoy. Also, you Captain calls you Bones? Which of these to you use to refer to yourself?"

Conna was also intrigued by this question. He looked up at McCoy expectantly.

"I… The name my mother gave me is Leonard Horatio McCoy, Leonard to close friends, McCoy to colleagues, mostly. The Captain calls me Bones as you called me Blue, but more out of fun than necessity."

"And what shall we call you?" Conna blinked up at him with interest.

McCoy cracked a smile. "Call me whatever you like, just don't call me late for dinner!"

* * *

All of the senior officers were present when it was time to bid the Trievan party farewell. The group had thoroughly enjoyed their tour of the _Enterprise,_ the favorite spots being the mess hall and the Sickbay, followed closely by Engineering.

Icheleus had taken a shine to Scotty at once, and the pair gave Uhura a bit of exercise trying to keep up with them. It seemed the Security Chief and the Chief Engineer had more in common than either had supposed. Icheleus ran a tight ship of his own, as it was, and he found both a kindred spirit and a taste for Scotch.

Hilar had marveled at the technology in Sickbay. Mumidran and Conna had tagged along as well, but their interest was surface level while Hilar's was professional. Even with his arm still in a sling, McCoy had guided his colleague all around, doing his best to explain hand-held tools and assure Hilar that they could treat all of the most severe cases the Trievans had at once. In fact, a few of the worse-off patients had already been delivered, and Hilar watched Doctor M'Benga operate with keen interest.

At the end of the day, the _Enterprise_ had to leave for Starbase 11. A diplomatic team was being sent to Trievas II at once, in addition to the Matrian Ambassador who would arrive tomorrow.

Uhura made sure she was present at the farewell. She knew some goodbyes would be exchanged, and Spock was just about exhausted from all of the mind melds. Neither of them could be everywhere at once.

"I suppose this is it. I promise I'll come visit. Next time we're in the neighborhood, I'll be sure to drop by. Maybe even bring souvenirs."

McCoy petted each head vigorously. Even Icheleus, so cold toward the Doctor earlier, accepted a scratch behind the ears in parting. Conna was more upset. He slathered McCoy in affection.

"I will miss you, Blue."

Biting his lip bravely, McCoy looked down at his new friend. "I'll miss you too. We'll see each other again, I'm sure of it."

"I'll hold him to that." Jim smiled amicably at the whole group. Everything had turned out to his satisfaction. The Matrians were being prosecuted, and the Trievans now had more help and support than they knew what to do with. He supposed that might just be the ticket, after such a traumatic incident, an abundance of available help but nothing that overstepped boundaries. They'd be in communication with the Trievans every step of the way.

Uhura handed off the universal translator to Mumidran, who took it in her mouth.

"I've downloaded all of the data from our conversations into the computer, so we can program more of these. But, I think it would be best for you all to have one of your own, so that there will be no more communication incidents in the future."

"We thank you, Lieutenant Uhura. Scout Conna?" Mumidran and the others had already alighted onto the transporter pad. It was a tight fit, so they were all obligated to sit, but they'd make it.

"I guess this is it, buddy." McCoy gave Conna one last squeeze.

"Until next time, Blue." The Scout licked his face for good measure before retreating to the pad.

Jim nodded to Scotty before addressing the party one last time. "Thank you, for everything you've done for us. We will try to repay that favor, but-"

"Say no more, Captain." Mumidran inclined her head towards him. "You have done more than we could have ever hoped for."

Smiling a little, Jim nodded back at her. "We wish you all the best."

"To you as well, Captain."

"Thank you. Scotty, whenever you're ready."

"Aye, sir." Scotty put in the sequence and started transport. McCoy stuck his hand up to wave goodbye, and found his eyes welling up when Conna mimicked the gesture with his paw. Whether or not he'd realized it before now, Conna had been a huge part of his recovery up to this point. Now, McCoy could see everything for how it was. The kid had a knack for reading others, and he'd used that talent to his fullest potential.

"He'll make a great psychiatrist." Jim muttered in McCoy's direction. "If he gets bored with being a scout."

That was enough to make McCoy snort. Leave it to Jim to get him out of a dark patch.

"Maybe Hilar will set him straight- make a proper doctor out of the kid. He'd do wonders with that mental mumbo-jumbo of his."

"That 'mumbo-jumbo', Doctor, was instrumental in both your initial rescue, and return from the Trievans' care."

And leave it to Spock to put a damper back on the whole thing.

"Just what do you know, Spock? I have it on good authority that of the three of us, I was the most communicable without the aid of any of that telepathy business."

"Your highly elevated and shall we say _loud_ emotional state made it very easy for the Trievans to read your emotions. I had not thought it possible, but from _my_ understanding, you were far more erratic and emotional than usual."

"Why you pointed-eared-"

" _Gentlemen,_ please." Jim stepped between his two officers and grinned. "I think I've had enough arguments for one day. Now, what say you we all head to my quarters and enjoy a drink and some of those delightful fruits Bones was given as a parting gift?"

McCoy's grin split his face from ear to ear. "Sounds like a good idea to me. Spock, I've got just the recommendation for you. These little red ones, see, they look like spoons… I think you'll take a shine to 'em."


End file.
